I basically want someone to tell me what (they think) this poem is going on about:

Snow in Your Shoes
BY ANA RISTOVIĆ

Cutlery does not a home make
though an extra spoon
comes in handy.

New curtains do not a home make
though some windows
are best covered.

For a home to be a home,
you need many items
you’d rather have discarded.

What Eskimos advise:
build a sturdy igloo with
snow in your shoes;

the safety pin, forgotten
in the coat collar,
at your jugular.

But also what's your favourite poem? And have we done this thread before?