He came home. Said nothing. It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong. He lay down fully dressed. Pulled the blanket over his head. Tucked up his knees. He's nearly forty, but not at the moment. He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb, clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness. Tomorrow he'll give a lecture on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics. For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CENTENNIAL MEDITATION OF COLUMBIA by SIDNEY LANIER LITTLE JERRY, THE MILLER by JOHN GODFREY SAXE PLACES: 2. FULL MOON (SANTA BARBARA) by SARA TEASDALE THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 1. AIR by JOHN ARMSTRONG TO A YOUNG MOTHER by HELEN DARBY BERNING A SISTER OF SORROW: 2. WEEPING CROSS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |