Into my home
into the shadow of another
you came
you stayed
knowing that you
more
while I
as much as I can
hang on these bare walls
My home
near me
through me
you know
my father
his stink of motel soap
my mother
her cache of plastic flasks
my brother
his search for stronger ground
for a home wherever walls may stand
a door you wait for me to walk through
windows draped with clothes I cast
a floor you lift me from
for reasons that include you by careful omission
My home
near me
through me
you know me
—
George Wells is an American expatriate living in Guadalajara, Mexico, where he teaches English as a Foreign Language and writes. His fiction has appeared in Shadow Road Quarterly and in Spark: A Creative Anthology, where he is currently a regular contributor and Writer Liaison.