[A Place]

(June11-14, 2010)

A seafoam green chrysalis – this
place I’ve been allowed to grow.
Slices of light sticking
through the venetian slats –
illuminating contrast patterns
on the sofa – warming a
place for me to rest my
weariness. A concrete world
exists outside – twisted asphalt & steel,
bones & flesh, television & chlorine.
But now the embrace of hotel
bed sheets – the fresh sticky smell
of bakery – the comfortable
drowsiness of safety – before
there was porch swings and
learning to write and being
eleven years old.
This place that poets painted
before the foundations were poured -
This place that builds itself
backward. This place, my place –