The Poem You Aren’t

There’s what you sense,
What’s in your head,
And all the rest
You know you can’t.

There’s wind, fast clouds,
Cut grass, brick dirt,
Chimes, road noise, birds,
Tired limbs, faint thirst.

There’s what you did,
Was done to you,
What you hope’s false,
What you’re sure’s true.

There’s what you aren’t,
That vast, blank poem
No part of thoughts,
Your one true home.