ill lit Selected & New Poems by Franz Wright

Boy Leaving Home

. . .
He is very tired of escaping
and the reason the thought of it scares him
so much is as simple
as it always was:
absolute absence of option.
Because where?
Wherever you happen to go
it's the same thing all over again.
First, you find yourself there
waiting for you. And then
you have a place
you'll have to leave; you leave
to find a place . . .
So many rooms now, the house so much bigger,
homesickness already beginning
to tighten at his throat,
and he's not even gone. He is,
of course, quite gone. And yet
here he is---someone else figure it out.
Yes, it seems to have doubled in size;
either that or he has just turned four.
There's nothing that can't happen now.
. . .

Day 20: #TheSealeyChallenge