Could you make a poem about a lost home by the sea?
when you think of homethere is an ocean -childhood is sand between your toesand the smell of salton your skin.
and everything was always brightand your mother was always smilingand you were never fully cleanbut you didn’t care; salt purifiesin the same way as fire.
and then the fire.
or not fire - one daythere is the ocean and the nextthere is a car and then you’re in the cityand you can’t smell the oceanand you don’t feel like yourself;too unsettled in your skin withoutsalt coating your hands.
you were sick all the winteror your brother was, or your father,or you all were and you never went backand you only saw the oceanwhen you closed your eyes.
and for years you thoughtif you wished hard enoughyou’d wake up in your old bed andyou’d hear the waves outside your door.
and you never learn to feel at homein the city; you never learn your placeor you do but it isn’t what you wantedand you grow up in a space too smalland too dry to hold you comfortably.
