By Joely DeSimone ’15

Volume XXXVI, Issue 1, October 4, 2013


I’ve come to find I have many homes:

temporary ones of taped-up photos,

lasting ones in the arms of friends,

an eternal one behind my eyes

in which I rest when the others are far.


But the home I call Home

is the worn-away, rubbed-raw

stripes below the kitchen table:

twenty years of a family scooting back

after dinner, full and calm.