365 Poems/210 Broken Boy Soldier (Rough First Draft)
Broken Boy Soldier
Your sister arrives home,
goes straight back out again,
leaving her phone and car keys.
You won’t pick a coffin from
the catalogue. You want a shroud,
so you’ll be kissing mushrooms
before the year is out.
You’re the colour of winter,
and trees fat with leaves stretch
their limbs, crack against the window.
The earth is impatient. It wants you back, now.
I want to leave with you, my broken
solider, in a sailing boat at midnight.
Maybe the moon will make you well,
leech the cancerous cells one by one.
The sun could drop out of the sky,
and I could light and warm
the world with my love for you.
But it doesn’t change a thing.
Your tumour makes the decisions,
and the minutes ride us like waltzers.