Home Body

Home Body

The home is, itself, a body.
It exists outside of you, not
for your purposes only. A home
has needs, and creates them
in us. The shower head dribbles,
its mouth clogged with calcium,
and your wet hair is reluctant
to release the slick conditioner.
You patch the peeling plaster
on the ceiling, crumbling
because a cracked shingle
lets in snow that becomes water,
and comes in. The home is a body
of work. You collaborate with it.
It is happy to work alongside you
and with the land outside it.
When you go from it for good,
it recalls you, keeps your hair
in its pipes and the mint you placed
into the dirt just outside the door.
It still works itself up to be torn.