Homecomings
If you decide to come home,
Remember how the door latches.
Remember how the front drive
Rumbles under your feet and the hinge
And sign sounds like cicadas when it swings.
Remember those wooly nights we couldn’t
Shake loose from: sleek summers, they
Tasted like gin and ash and bad cologne.
Remember how you dragged me out
By my hair and remember when I pushed
The rent-to-own TV from the third floor.
Remember the reds and blues and how
Denny fell down a flight of stairs. And
Remember me in that blood-red dress.
Remember how it looked in that rickety
Rearview, leaving us the first time ‘round.
