Where I Am

Victoria Punch

I am white noise and rustling, soothing as a baby breathing
I am the taste of water, the thirst behind it:

I am lamenting thick under the sorrow of leaving.
I am the aftertaste of wine.

I am under the quilt for days. I am the wait and the wonder,
I am wide-eyed and softly spoken. I am love in its first and final form

I am balanced by my softly swaying forward motion.
I am unsettled, over the edge, and leaning

I am the longing of the open suitcase,
the one-way ticket one way on

I am the smell of the last leaves on the ground, sodden and underfoot,
I am the stitches of a scarf, every ridge an act of love, pulled tight

I am where you are – lost, twilit, remembering,
beakbone and bearlike, caveling.

I am wintering wild, limbs unfolding,
you find the sky and know your homecoming