“HOME IS FALLEN”

HOME IS FALLEN
YELLOW PEARS,
SOFTENED BY TIME,
DAMPENED BY DEW.
HARD BRUISED HOLES
PENETRATED
BY GRUBS AND GROOVES.
I PICK UP THIS,
MY UNSIGHTLY PEAR,
WASH AWAY THE ANTS,
CUT AWAY THE WORM.
ALL THAT REMAINS
IS HOME AT ITS CORE.
A HOME THAT IS WARM,
BAKING IN THE OVEN
BENEATH CINNAMON AND CLOVES.
HOME IS ALL THAT IS SALVAGED.
HOME IS MY WHORE.
HOME IS MY MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD BORE.
HOME, HOME, HOME.
HOME WAS NEVER A COFFEE CUP,
BUT I'LL PRETEND THAT IT WAS ALL
ALONG,
AS I WRITE THIS POEM FOR A HOME
THAT NEVER WAS MINE,
BUT WAS ALWAYS HIS--
HIS WHO WAS ME,
ME WHO IS WE.
THE VOICES STOP ECHOING
ONLY WHEN I FALL ASLEEP.
IN A HOME.
IN A HOLE.
BENEATH A PEAR TREE,
THE SANDBOX.
I WATCH MYSELF PLAY,
SUN OR RAIN.
I WATCH MYSELF FAINT
BENEATH A SASKATOON SUN.
THAT MAN, THAT MAN,
THAT MAN WAS ME.
THAT BOY, THAT BOY,
THAT BOY WAS HE.
HE, WHO I VISIT
IN A HOME, WE ARE WE.
HE, WHO I VISIT,
I PRETEND I CAN BE
AGAIN AND AGAIN
AND THEN AGAIN, AGAIN.
I PRETEND, I PRETEND
THAT ONCE UPON A TIME
I DID NOT BECOME
A RUN AWAY FROM HOME.
ONE WHO STOPPED RUNNING
BECAUSE IT WAS HARD
ON MY KNEES.
ONE WHO STOPPED PAINTING
BECAUSE IT WAS ALL
I COULD BE.
ONE WHO STOPPED WRITING
BECAUSE IT WAS ALL
I COULD SEE.
ONE WHO STOPPED LOVING
BECAUSE LOVE REMINDED ME
OF A HOME,
OF A HOME,
OF A PEAR TREE I PLANTED
WHEN I WAS THREE.
I AM ALONE IN A HOME IN A LIFE IN A DREAM.
I AM ALONE IN A POEM ON A PAGE THAT IS BLANK.
I AM BLANK.
HE IS BLANK.
WE WANT TO BE BLANK, TOGETHER.
WE WANT TO BLANK ONE ANOTHER.
WE WANT TO BE
BLANKED IN THE BLANK
BY THE BLESSED BLANKING.
BLESSED IS ME.
BLESSED IS HE.
FORGIVENESS, FORGIVENESS,
FORGET ME NOT,
HE WRITES THE BEST ONES
WITH CAPS LOCK
CUZ WE HAVE A BIG COCK.

narrative poem written on 10-02-2013 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem

SHARE THIS POEM!

- Remove line breaks