The morning sun’s light---
The bed is hot.
The air is warm and humid.
Marianne’s eyes gazing up.
Again we are moving and
Almost there;
New places reveal themselves,
Retreat then.
On each side neatly ordered sets
Of memories,
But not the important ones
That cause the pain,
That are holding things back…
Sweat forms
An unpleasant stickiness, so
Each moment is an hour.
Now the resolution!
Home sweet home,
What are you?
[circa 1989, not completely sure when;
some punctuation added in 1999]