CALL ME BELOVED

bare walls, wooden crosshatching
make squares on the floor, one
rectangle of rug which our cat
sharpens his claws on – windows
perpetually fogged by some film –

I took it as a sign that the drawers
were just large enough to fit my clothes,
that all my belongings fit neatly into
one small box, that I was home,
and that it was waiting for me.