Homeland

Homeland

Aubrey Brady

I reach for a place,
fingertips almost tasting
the borders that belong:

A field full of piked stalks,
a car that is a home to wasps,
honeysuckle skirting edges -

then chain link bounds,
the hot metal smell of childhood,
each inch of carved concrete

gorged with bodies jostling,
blank blue expanses the only
empty space -

then trees: walnut, myrtle,
downy serviceberry leaving
small purple stains on the planks of our porch.

My hands cannot keep
up with the onslaught
of place after place –

Tennessee’s honey atmosphere
contrasted
with Zaventem’s moist ivied avenues.

The smell of exhaust
that jolts me into a longing.

The swaying hills growing
into colossal ranges
making my head tilt,

chin point west towards
this year’s rendition of home.

Nothing quite fits into
the arc of my palm.

I imagine places that linger,
smells that don’t grow into nostalgia.

Yet –

the earth keeps pirouetting so swiftly that
plains and peaks swirl together.

We all lurch, dizzy and nauseas,
searching for our homeland.

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Aubrey Brady
Poet & Musician

Aubrey’s work is upcoming in Solum Press. She has her Bachelors of Art in music and works at Church of the Vine Anglican as their music director. She is currently pursuing her MFA in Poetry from Lindenwood University. You can find more of her work on instagram @aubreybradyart.

Photography by Gautier Salles