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.