I Miss Home More Than I Miss All Of My Exes
By Ioana Casapu
Someone new is living in my home now
Gazing out the kitchen window every now
and then
To catch the sunlight between third and fourth floor
or watch my neighbour water her gardenias
Someone new is sun bathing on my terrace now
I hope they’re beautiful and tall
spreading their arms like seagull wings
to suntan and morning breeze
I hope they wave with a chuckle
with unrestrained expectancy
to the boys across the street
Musicians and fellow writers
who gather on the Conservatory’s steps for one last cigarette at noon
Someone else is sleeping in my bedroom now
their weight leaving prints in the sheets
the way bodies form small sweat colonies on a mattress
the way breath fills up the rooms with fog in winter.
Someone new is walking through my living
I hope their heels make songs on the marble
I hope they have plenty of guests
in the midnight air,
the way laughter fills up mirrors and walls and glasses
the way hair clogs the shower sometimes
rebellious and unapologetic.
I hope they love
and pray,
and see the sadness and glory
of tomorrow
like I did.