Tuesday, 5 April 2011


Today our house
Our little nest
Filled with pain
Like water filling Thai houses
to the brim.
Our lungs and hearts filled up with
Hurt and hope lost.
We looked for escape
and saw only our possessions;
all the things that made us who we are
swamping us with their normality.
There was no way to float to safety.
So before you came,
I sat in the garden
in the wooden chair
The only chair that wasn’t wet
And waited to find out
If you still loved me.
And still there were things:
A reminder of the fireworks,
The barbecue covered and dry,
the summer that hadn’t yet come. 


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