Today's poem is by Amorak Huey

This Is the House in Which I Am Lonely
       

In which I am untouched — it's snowing,
someone says it looks like the house
from a movie about the holidays.
A story about someone returning,
then, likely from a great distance
or after a long time. These are
the only stories in the world.
Escape the cyclops, cross the seas,
it's still snowing, I'm home,
even when the stars are behind the clouds,
as now, some light gets through —
words are not the same as touch,
a postcard is not a vacation,
the way you know your life is not a story
is that stories have shape
and in stories desire has purpose.
This is the body in which I am lonely —
what if it's loneliness that keeps me alive.

Copyright © 2025 Amorak Huey All rights reserved
from What the House Knows
Terrapin Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission