Washed my clothes
Lemon, verbena
Eucalypt, a medicinal sting
Of bleach and comfort
Surprised you are still there
In the fibres, furred
In the burgeoning way
Of new growth after fire
While you breathe
(I wonder why
we never breath
as if life were always in
that past imperfect tense)
The parallax of your chest
Shrinks and swells
Swells and shrinks
The curved shape of the world
I hear the semaphore
The wind-torn page a violation
That I can never read
Hum a see-saw song
Shhhhh
At least
I’m not growling
