Dave Bonta's short poem is hard to pin down at first, but it seems to circle a feeling of not quite belonging anywhere. The opening lines say home is "close as any order" yet "as far as me." That reads as a puzzle: home is as near as any kind of structure or routine, but also as distant as the speaker is from themselves. The idea of home becomes something just out of reach.
The second stanza turns physical and quiet. The speaker washes "a great while," as if trying to scrub away the traces of "my other bed," meaning perhaps a place they slept but never felt was theirs. Judging by the wording, the washing feels like both a ritual and a small act of hope, a wish to start clean.
The mood is restless and tender at once. There is loneliness here, but also patience, a slow effort to feel settled.