On Homesickness

What is your malady?

Asks the form at the community acupuncture clinic.
My pen hovers—so many to choose from:
the thyroid, the gut, the face.
I find myself writing instead:


Homesickness.


I hand in my form. I wonder if the doctor
with the needles will laugh at me,
but he says instead:


I am homesick too.


And then he puts needles in my ears and my ankles
and I fall asleep.
Around me, strangers sleep
needled dreams, under warm blankets.


And I think:
at home in the world.
The endless desire to be
at home in the world.


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