365 Poems/39 Monday (Rough First Draft)


Today, my scars itch, and I require

frosted Shreddies with extra sugar,

and all the lights on,

so  whenever I look behind

there isn’t darkness at my back.


I do exercises to improve my vision,

and reiterate my values of

creative freedom, focus and balance.


I don’t demand a new coat every winter.

I like being re-introduced to the old one.

But part of me craves new pockets

and a warm hood.


I eat cold ratatouille and drink spiced tea

with cloves and cinnamon and lemon juice.


I try and forget the cost of lighting,

and heating and food, and lie curled

on a sheepskin rug that’s been passed

down through the family,

and has warmed the bellies of many dogs

and the cold feet of many children.


Sometimes, I don’t think I’ll be happy

until I have two babies with duel

Norwegian and English citizenships,

and a cabin in the woods, near the mountains,

where the snow never fully melts.