the clanging when the gates open
as the dogs bark, shut the gate only to hear rusty
metal screech rusty metal, i think
i am home

gravel crunch under my shoes, crunch, crunch
to open the screenless screen door, push
aside the heavy sliding second door, i think
i am home

walk into the canary room with its rich
maroon-tiled floor, turn right for the stairs, leave your
shoes before you go 10 steps up, i think
i am home

another door is wide open, smell the waft of dog-shampoo,
dog burst through, get slapped on the shins with its heavy wagging
tail and invites you the the dark green couch, i think
i am home

walk on the wooden floor as the bookshelves rattle
when i pass by, rattle, rattle, leave my bag on the chair, reach the fridge,
look for food and sit on the polished yellow table, i think
i am home

the last room and its rich dark brown door, with its
antique bed: lay down, contemplate, count the squares above it--48
blink, open another door to the balcony, graze the cold cement, i think
i am home

look into the backyard with patches of dead grass, inhale oxygen,
exhale sadness, go back inside and smile, finally, i think
i am home

as i smell that unique scent of mom in the bathroom, see the table
dad made from ply woods, sort my sister's things, smile at my brother's grad picture,
sit with the dog on the couch, scratch its ears, i know
i am home

midnight strikes, detach from the computer, rub tired eyes, brush my
teeth on the blue-tiled sink, reach the orange door quietly, take one last glance on
the mirror and enter the capiz faux-door of the bedroom we all share, hear
all of your soft snores and shufflings under the blanket,
collapse on the bed, this is it.
i am home.