Night and Day
Is this the same room as it was yesterday?
And is this the same body?
Yesterday, I was cavernous, and cold.
I was sick of feeling existence on my skin,
was so stuck in the truth of this house.
And sometimes it feels like the world
is the size of a snow globe,
and sometimes, I think,
this whole town gets the shakes.
Is this the same body as I had yesterday?
Is this the same life?
Today I skinned my knees on pavement,
I wished on a dandelion to believe again,
and I named the frog in the garden
after the street where I grew up.
And sometimes it feels like
this whole world is one big field of wildflowers.
Today I thought of someplace far away
and planned to go back again.
Is this the same life I lived yesterday?
And is this the same place I was in?
Is this the same home, the same body
I’ve been in since the day I began?
