He came home.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He's nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he'll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Wislawa Szymborska Poems
Analysis and Comments on Going Home
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Going Home here.