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on postcards and magazines:
if you can’t sleep
cover yourself in ink
newspapers or tabloids
feel a little less
alone - the house
isn’t so empty now

a sideways bottle
a touched neck

and it’s in reverse

in postcards and magazines
little hair little bird
out on the street
gossiping with cupboards

I’m in the straw
hiding in the haze
calling our names

if that’s what you say
why don’t
why don’t
why doesn’t
why don’t I feel it

like old lights
like old silver
like the pendant
you blow the dust off of

in reverse

I paint my nails
and I’m all lust
and you’re all leaves