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.