picking up my bird cage, my cane mattress,
my half-read book, half-eaten bread crust
I bundled up my creased clothes, left some used slippers,
picked up pens, a peacock feather, a page-pressed bookmark-rose
a corroded steel trunk atop a bullock cart and left…to http://www.rochellepotkar.com
It’s a new house. It’s better.
There’s new paint on the wall.
A fresh window.
A fresh tree that discos.
The smell of empty happiness
that promises can fill a thousand times over.
I have hooked my bird cage there
given my house a name in secret echoes
unfurled the mattress,
plumped up a feather pillow.
I await the sun now at my window
The way it dips
like the rest of the biscuit in my mouth
Then I shall dance.
See me there sometimes
through the shadows on the wall
tug-of-warring with those on the ceiling
the curtain of my hair
the breeze of the night,
my moon brooch
my dreams, the stars of the night sky.