i feel at home within the stillness of a house at night
i rarely waver in the dark or quiet spaces of a slightly unknown place
for there is a lightness there
it is inside these spaces that i find my place
amongst tired floors and resting furniture
it is me and the small-slow creeping things
(unsure as i am if the dark impressions of motion are on the floor or inside of my mind—there is even comfort to be found in that too)
the creaks and groans are the tones of hidden hellos specific to these walls
the things heard are of my own creation or that of the inherent nature of the frame i’m inside of
it is on and under these sloped sleeping lines that i am able to recenter and remember my sense of self that is now and at once a mirrored home: the inner home of me