Sunday, April 26, 2009

the architect

I am building a fort
like when I was seven
with the pillows
and the chairs
my aunties cats hairs
and a safety blanket
with its holes
where the light came through
I’ve got the string
I’ve got cookies and milk
I’ve got scarves of silk
but this one extends to the beach
and lets the seagulls nest on my belly
this one runs down to the woods
and nuzzles with the deer
this one won’t be interrupted
by ‘dinner’s ready’ or ‘turn off the telly’
this one is no trespassing
for both our safety
you won’t even see it
or me within
it’s my new safe shell
in my own little hell