This old purple sofa a raft
in a sea of cardboard boxes

the expanse of bare
hardwood floor

all other furniture gone
it is my roosting place

and I stay
here till later
than I should

each morning now
waking and wondering
where am I

the angles of light
from different windows

the unexpected ceiling
a wall where it shouldn’t be

the early subconscious
reckoning that I’m not
home anymore