between Sorrento and Maryland I had a lot of dreams
about homes that were pre-prepared, pre-loved
that would take me in like wings
whose stories would stir seamlessly into my own
places I hadn’t seen or felt but heard and hungered for –

I never knew then, young and lonely,
that homes are built with hugs as much as bricks
set in songs themselves as much as cities
paved in the inimitable gold of sunsets shared.

(I went to Sorrento and saw the moon, here and there,
and while I didn’t feel less lonely I did feel less alone.
she doesn’t know me, that sky,
and I don’t know her side-by-side sister yet, though now I am beginning.)

[I made my home between my own knees, drawn to my breast,
and you can come too, if you like;
you’re the hearth, after all]