My sisters dance to heaven's music,
ears tuned to hymns, eyes fixed on stars...

Tea drinking and tutting, while
Constantly tucking...

This poem isn't mine at all
It starts and stops like someone else's poem...

Then he was tired of hurling himself
against the flashing, jingling cage of the city...

Silent appreciation
is overrated now...

Cradling a microphone on
the stage a scrunch of...

Upon my dusty window sill,
a pair of plants...

They've made an exhibit of our room for the...
Now people come and shuffle around our bed and...

As those birds that fly
with wings clamped...

Comfort
in wriggling ten...

Sitting on a park bench
at five PM...