It is very dark behind
The cookie sheets. A perfect place
For your imagination
To hide
Folded into every piece
Of laundered cloth is
A sliver of life
Lost
Inside the crackling and
The sparking of the hearth
Are the brightest dreams
Burning
Amid the neatly-packed pantry
And the rows of non-perishables
Is where the soul goes
To die
Home
Is where
The heart
Is
?