at the end of your life

a window

a tree that comes to an end

stories cut down for houses

at night we open doors

to try and bring them back

they are buried

in the lake that sleeps

inside our sun

nothing harder than the flower

knowing you are between airs

a sign just as usual

wearing enough okay

why petals are admired for ignoring you

i don’t know

on top of engaging with silence

and the demands

of being so easy

what we are now

is if you knew

the last silence

there is so much to say

when you don’t have silence

and when you do

you are laying brick upon brick

to cover yourself just in case

 

the owl stands all night long

like a table that stops being a table

and the up side down

cuts its hair and finds you in the mirror

all along the side is your name

facing

one of the ways

 

what is important

lands on what is correct

now you run around

and put things in places

i know your name

i have your papers

and your numbers

you are one square metre

and that depends on sundays

like for so long dragging your feet

through what understands

how more makes less

 

i have a title for you

but the page is blank

letters are cryptic if we have prisons

an oh how we have prisons