Half-life For Rent
by A. Lawrence Bradshaw I don’t leave home to see the sun. It beats on the roof forever like time, like a drum And Mary’s in India, stoned, with you while I have pale sand in my shoes, sifting out of long-tarnished eyelets grain by solitary grain, rubbing its way to reminders of you It must be her who makes you feel like there’s a big white flag with coloured pennants flying in the carnival of your heart. Instead of a half-life for rent, you snapped her up, I guess I never said good bye. My lips formed inaudible questions: Will I see you when you’re 40 or is that it? Too afraid of your replies I wait in the house an empty shell, knowing that this land is mine, and I don’t want it (A found poem created using song titles from Dido’s album, ‘life for rent’) |
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