They are all there
stacked in a row
like a neat queue
of virgin dominoes
all the clues
forgotten lingerie
charging cables
without an adapter
strands of hair
all over my bed
Is she going bald
this winter?
My mother looks
at me with disapproval
but her face is
lit up again
pissed that I had sex
happy that I had sex
there are depressions
in my bed
but none in my head
this one is a heavyweight
but is she too late
for the summer
or maybe I should wait?
There are no sparrows
out and about
and she knows not
what a woodpecker
dreams about
dreams about or
a dream boat?
it’s an ocean of
memory and bodily fluids
and she’s crossing
I am drowning
my Mum is watching
I am eating ramen
in front of the TV
again, picking out
her hair from my
couch. It’s ambivalent-
this feeling. Maybe
not as much as I
would like it to be.
