Traveller's house
by Kavita Joshi
[ poetry - november 06 ]
My home is more of a house. Not like the
homes that Ikea will do for you. It
is constructed to make you feel ill at
ease. If there is one thing it promises,
(apart from the stench of cigarettes), it
is this unsettling feeling. The feeling
that you should live out of boxes and
suitcases, because, at anytime, the
other lodgers - with bigger boxes - and
bigger suitcases - and bigger voices
will want to spread themselves out a little
more. My home (that is more of a house)
belongs to a traveller. And that traveller
certainly cannot be me. Bless this mess.
