Should I stay or should I go?

By: Madelyn Crews

Come home

call the Catskills

where mountains cleanse humanity’s stains from oxygen

I can taste the difference

the crispness of that air when I inhale and

Come home

whistle the vivacious vireos and lissom bluejays

drilling madness into the minds of tourists

who in turn

blind them with disposable camera flashes

they flee, but serenade me when I

Come home

think the passing people on cobblestone corners

the ones who smiled back

who removed silver spoons from their mouths

long enough to say hello

Come home

mutters the librarian

who exchanges my overdue books for

a clicked tongue

a wink

and another dusty collection of foxed poems

that clipped baby blue fingers slide

across the counter

just for me

Come home

says the seventh and most current house

in the long line of family uprootings

the one with paint chips desperate to flee sullen wood

overflowing gardens under Mother Nature’s supervision

and the fallen fence in the front yard

Come home

cry my cats

fattened by my love for them and their love of my food

their heavy purrs heal me every night and in turn

I provide belly scratchies like no other

for that reason alone they want me to

Come home

sighs my mother

her plea lingers longer than her hugs

in hope that they will lull me back into her arms for

one moment more

persuading me to again

Come home

my father’s tears rust his voice

and he creaks out a haunting truth

your home is now where your pillow rests

the car radio sings The Clash

but all I hear are static murmurs

as I drive


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