Hermit Justin Jannise

Where Is My Home By Polly Monear

HERMIT

Justin Jannise

At the threshold, you test, with one tentative claw. Will this be the day you return to salt spray and searing light? But isn’t this Tuesday? The claw you withdraw.

Your best life was scuttling through foam, tripping on seaweed’s frayed rope, tiptoeing to the scalloped edge—translucent skin stretched over blue nerves,

every fellow creature a threat to embrace. What spindly hugs you gave, your arms like saws, your heart so full of fear you thought to love meant to attack.

See where it got you. See how good you were at keeping friends. You took to your shell the way dye takes to wool: you sank into it.

There’s only room for you in there. You must meet me out here. Abandon your house with the windows painted shut.