There are rooms that only exist when certain things are aligned, only once, or twice maybe.
My vacant expression in an unfamiliar room that I live in,
Here in the the here after
living is cavernous, a profound dream half-forgotten
but mostly lingering as if it were just
around a corner, waiting to be summoned
by the most demure architectural details;
scrupulously re-arranging furniture into occult formations,
Pushing planets into alignment with my uncontainable envious nostalgia.
I swear, I was standing right there and
I reached through the walls and found a
place to burrow in my first winter.
I promise I went beyond that corner of the basement and lived a life there.