HERE TO STAY Comments

When we most expect it
there's a knock on the door:
not the postman
and not youth calling. He says
he's family and is here to stay.

First he plays hide and seek
with our thoughts.
He wakes us up at night, rips
our slippers apart for fun,
leaves jars of formaldehyde
on the kitchen table.

At a loss for what to do, we try
to divert his hunger.
We show him our watch,
give him our wallet,
the buttons of our raincoat, our rings.
And finally our fingers.

At which point he persuades us
to call him sir and to offer him
our grandfather's chair, the phone numbers
of our friends, the view from the window.
With head uncovered
we serve dinner.

In time we realize
he wants to dress us inside out,
to line our coat collars
with the north wind, to have us say:
"the autumn leaves are burning bright,
what am I doing at home?"
...
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