Spare Change

What I wanted
Was to write
The lines
That would say
How I had changed
Since I walked
Out of the rain
Instead I threw
Three quarters
Into a callused palm
And continued on my way

Home is a Skeleton

Home is a skeleton
Bare walls and empty beds
Boxes in the hallway
Bags bursting by the door

Home is a skeleton
Buried in coffins of memory
Burning into smoke and mirrors
In the final act of the charade

Home is a skeleton
Hungering for flesh
Devouring mother and father
Until only teeth and words remain

Home is a skeleton
The ribcage suffocating
Under the weight of massive lungs
Breath doesn’t come easy anymore

Home is a skeleton
The remains of an obese corpse
Rotted down to bare bone
Drowned in its own weight

Home is a skeleton
Withered beneath a distant sun
Asleep beneath dust and dirt
Laid in a shallow, unmarked grave