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