Hardly at All Developed, and Just Written this A.M., But Here’s Something Regardless

Springtime — and due to moving
everything you own has been reduced to:
one fork, one knife, one plate, one cup.

When in the kitchen, at the cucina,
squeezing honey onto cornbread,
you — I — realize this, what it once was like
comes back in a rush: waking up un-hungover
(though you should be) in an empty dorm room
in fragrant early May;
Feeling very light and terribly free.

But the boxes stacked
in another room reproach you.