The Day Outside is Golden

In this room, a deaf bed sleeps

Sheafed in a corner, like the pens on her desk

The world here stands still, as if a shaft

No maudlin tale, no sad song plays

A monument of trials stems from her breasts

Be careful not to touch her, She is lucky to have made it this far.

In the kitchen, water boils in an old pot,

The day outside is golden,

Mum is making tea.

Oh dear God, please cure my sick daughter

She hasn’t laughed in a year since.


In my dreams, I saw in a dream

I lost another child, she died in me

You must have strength, who could I tell?

White ships set sail on the top of my head that night.

I turned and tossed, extinct on the bed,

Piled like chaff on bobbing water, I drowned somewhere underneath.

You’ve made it this far, now soak in pieces

Now swim, now run

I know how to do none of that.

My black hair floated like lotus on the surface,

Hands and neck, all sank in bits

All of me died on the white ships that night,

The rest of me killed the rest of me.

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