OUT OF TOWN, OUT OF MIND

while out of town, my house remained unattended
and the spirits dwelled in porcelain solitude
as dust crushed slowly upon books
in the wee hours of my leaving.
the boston fern slept with the moon
and dreamt of my return
with a jug of ocean on my breath
and my rumpled bed, uncoiled
the shadow of my
dreams

where thunder is light boiling
and somewhere

i am there.