unpacked

i’m all unpacked, and yet, i’m still unsettled. i crisscross the floor looking for scissors, a scarf, a cutting board, a bowl, tape. the unsteady pattern of trying to undo the memories of the previous apartment’s layout. the clicks and clangs and whistles and creaks come from unsuspecting spots. nothing is familiar even though it’s all the same furniture, clothes, dishes, toothbrush, shoes as before.

and it’s like all the heat i was denied the previous four winters was stored here and has been unleashed for me now.