Movement of the young

Harden under foot as it begins to smell like a home

Not of familiarity

But of cum and bone and light-

I so often squint under the new sun


punctuated by another shifting, a year spaced by twin pairs of parallel rubbered scuffs and a ravenous housing market

Laced walks with eyes cast down across a stranger’s road that is now mine and-

The old shoes- the comfortable tear in the sole-

agreeably worn-



Oh, to the choral sound of moan and whip of sirens

of screech and a concussive kick

which rattles the brick and the thoughts of you loose from their shelves

a delusion to think that we have ever known home

a far cry to expect that we ever will

3 responses to “Movement of the young”

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