The citizens of this land build massive sculptures

to honour the king     And when he is pleased he shows mercy

And if he is displeased he rouses a hurricane

At very end of our trip it was supposed to rain but didn’t

We approached Wavefield but didn’t walk on the wave

We lay by a wall of stone where I read to you “Mending Wall”

And after weeks of discomfort, finally cracked my back

At home I bathed in the green copper water

I asked what you were building and you said context

We should think of each day as having twelve rounds

I’m tired of feeling things in my body     Like ions

All the apartment’s doorknobs have been removed

The last tenant afraid of being locked inside

In a house with no exits     It’s details that frustrate:

That my mother described her symptoms to a pharmacist

concerned they were a side effect of medication

(she was having the heart attack that killed her)

I stare into middle distance as defence mechanism

(so I don’t get attacked on the subway again)

Fear manifests as compulsion     Where is the feeling

I used to have (that life was taking place)