This feeling

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.

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