After I told you I’d never see you again you ripped the mobile home
apart certain and dexterous and everything in it because
I had lived there for three slow months one summer returning
from Florida resource-less and spinning. And it all came apart so easily
bare hands, claw-hammer, and energy, dismantled doors and windows went first,
then the fittings and fixtures flew after the furniture and the wall-to-wall shelving
that stowed all my clothes from the black blossoming moulds as they bled against discipline.
The walls, the floor and the roof peeled open stunningly like a burn in our vision.
Everyone watched, stupefied and dazed, my insides cast out over the lawn
disseminating before you gathered it all back to the centre and set it alight.
Spectators were horrified at the strength of the flames that flared over the hedges
in a spectacular show of anger and all for me!
I smiled – it would have been worse
if you’d done nothing.
Written as part of my Masters portfolio 2009 and published by The Poetry Bus in early October 2013