so many nights we have curled up to sleep underneath the sea with the coral between our toes and bubbles on our chests, i don't know why it makes me feel so sunken that we won't be like that again. we've marvelled at the moon when it looks like a tooth, big and yellow and spherical and been puzzled at the sound of fireworks at eight a.m. we have made stories in the light of false constellations and played games about time machines and being children. whilst we peeled our oranges in unison i thought about how the homes we have tried so hard to piece and glue together are going to dissolve and crumble away from us. home is where the heart is there's no place like home home sweet home. where is my home?
come on home, the poppies are all grown knee-deep by now
blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow
peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow, with
hydrocephalitic listlessness ants mop up-a their brow
and everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour
the butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours
and my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines
come on home, now! all my bones are dolorous with vines
(thankyou for the pictures to
sophie for always documenting our fun together with such sweetness)
