Lost at Home

room-307464_1280

The walls are comforting.
They haven’t moved
but the furniture
is half gone.
The echoes
knock a sick spot
in my stomach.

I won’t miss
the television.
The couch
can be replaced—
but not you.

Take the pots and pans,
I’m not hungry.

 

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Lost at Home

  1. Lisa Tomey says:

    The echoes
    knock a sick spot
    in my stomach…captures so much.

  2. Susi Bocks says:

    You grabbed me with that very first line. Well-done, Bartholomew.

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