At One

In winter, I couldn’t help but feel the Sun
Moved on a Zimmer frame.
I was electrocuted into birth,
And I was too tired to suckle my mother.

Layers of snow milked the surface on concrete,
And later, they flushed into a smile of mud,
And water, and grit, kissing car wheels,
Even with a walking stick, it slipped on the way home.

And in a cot I grew my fuzzy subconscious,
Into a bouquet of crocuses and babies’-breath,
My hair was a stubble,
I was a shaved bear.

At one I pointed at the same winter with a Sun
Doused in tea towels, felt slippers, and Bigga mushy peas.
At one I knew something about the weather, the winter.
I couldn’t define age.

I couldn’t wrap my teeth-less gums into the earth,
I felt the soup of the sky break away by clouds,
The assortments of breads, I was never the child,
No, at one, I was a hundred years old.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s