by Emily Hansen<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
If I have a home it\u2019s a metaphor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
a simple house \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0near<\/p>\n
a beige ocean \u00a0the gulfpacificatlantic<\/p>\n
melded until they\u2019ve lost<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
their spark\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 the way a rainbow<\/p>\n
of crayons might melt together<\/p>\n
in a microwave and become<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
uncolor\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 in this house<\/p>\n
I\u2019m told\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0one thing<\/p>\n
downstairs \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0and another<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
upstairs\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 coffee drips<\/p>\n
from the old white pot\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I am waiting<\/p>\n
on the stairs for Santa\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 my mother<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
calls from her bed\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0there won\u2019t<\/em><\/p>\n be much this year <\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0my father<\/p>\n writes from a ship\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 whispers<\/p>\n <\/p>\n from the garage\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 over<\/p>\n a chorus of waves\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 a lie<\/p>\n \u00a0things always get better<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n at the dining table<\/p>\n we sit over bowls<\/p>\n of scrabble tiles\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 crunch<\/p>\n <\/p>\n them between our teeth<\/p>\n make conversation\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I spell<\/p>\n E\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 M\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 L\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Y<\/p>\n <\/p>\n no proper nouns <\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0they coo<\/p>\n there\u2019s no reception from the living<\/p>\n room\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 and from the yard<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the house\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 is only<\/p>\n ember\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 dying fire<\/p>\n begging\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0come back inside<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n I am the author of Home and Other Duty Stations<\/em> (Kelsay Books) and the chapbook The Way the Body Had to Travel\u00a0<\/em>(dancing girl press). My poetry has appeared in 32 Poems<\/em>, Hobart<\/em>, Up the Staircase Quarterly<\/em>, Atticus Review<\/em>, Glass: A Journal of Poetry<\/em>, and The Shore<\/em> among others. I live in Atlanta where I am a PhD student at Georgia State University and an instructor of English at Agnes Scott College.<\/p>\n
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