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

abracadabra

I’ve always loved a magic trick. Especially cards. You can have endless fun with those. I’d love for you to teach me the one where you guess the card I’m holding by looking into my eyes. closely. For a very. long. time. Here. Let me practice some more. On that bench there. But you always preferred to perform bigger and louder tricks. On stages. With audiences. And sometimes daggers. Your most notable one? To disappear completely.

shanty

her sea pirate balances
on the edge of their rowboat,
that she’s a row, row, rowing
the long way back to shore
he’s rocking it
for her amusement,
her clutch and sigh
he’s jumping and twisting
he’s one triumphant joker
he’s wide eyed
abandonment
he does not see
the sea spilling in
her water eyes stung
by the salty high waves
as she rows faster
and faster
with aching arms
he does not see
her hic-up laugh
is one of panic