by Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum

He wakes to the tapping
Of her finger on his chest,
A bluebird opening
A shell, a watchmaker
Tinkering a gear.

“You were talking again
In your sleep,” she says,
Her face inches from his.

“You kept saying
I can’t wait to go home;
I can’t wait to go home.

“‘Don’t you get it, My Love,’
I wanted to say, ‘I am
Your home. I am.’”

ANDREW McFADYEN-KETCHUM is an authoreditor, & ghostwriter. He is Author of two poetry collections, Visiting Hours and Ghost Gear; Acquisitions Editor for Upper Rubber Boot Books; Founder and Editor of PoemoftheWeek.com, The Floodgate Poetry Series, and Apocalypse Now: Poems & Prose from the End of Days. Learn more at AndrewMK.com.