poem

building a fire from the newspapers

stacked inside my brain.

      Listening to your mother laugh uncontrollably

While Peter scratches a majestic landscape out of mold

That has been growing for ages-

    Stuck to the side of the bookcase where cobwebs

Share secrets and flies bury their bones-

    Appearing to be more beautiful than the January sunsets

I lick my lips, let the dog out to piss and say goodbye to Papa.