A Boston Winter (~12.20.05, rev. 12.27.05)

Place confuses

and surrounds me,

as nesting dolls' concentric selves.

The couch of sleep to room of waking,

sunrise to sunset in the city.

I passed through darkness and high mountains

to get to you, my sanctuary -

and now, day's past, I long to leave.

No word could bring the day's return

and present joys are met by walls.

I rest in one room

within another,

comfortable yet not at home.