hands like houses

"how do you feel?"

she asks me

running her fingertips

through my hair

and her lips

down my neck

as sunlight leaks

in through the window

and pours onto

the wrinkled sheets

wrapped around

our lukewarm skin

the question

dangles in the space

between us

so we meet in

the middle

day eighty-three

but i have known her

for decades

my first word

was her last name

i grew up

beside her bones

i feel

like i grew up

in her arms

i feel like i'm

at home