Are you mad?

My family came here on a boat from space,
trailing hands through the cosmos with stars in their eyes,
singers and dancers and sellers of tales and wonders and fantasy worlds,
who fished whales from black holes and smoked clouds across decades and centuries whilst crooning to jazz,
who dropped anchor in voids and observed white dwarves,
who swallowed supernovas and laughed crazy in the faces of gods,
who made their homes in gardens and drew cocks on the walls,
who slept through the storms forging city and home and neighbourhood as well,
who sent 'children' to school to learn angles and equations and chemical compounds,
who baked and whisked and sieved and laughed on birthdays,
with balloons in hands and with smiles cracking across porcelain complexions,
oblivious to storm-clouds now gathering to throw fire at their minds from their home in the stars,
chanting their orders from city halls, striking matches on brick lanes and passing out at the bars, rummy drunkenness blurring the edges of the hours in to one fucking flash of life,
who screamed from the windows to run and hide from the dragons in sewers spitting flame at the cars and sweated serotonin in passionate throes between colourless walking narcoleptic monarchs,
who slept away weekends nursing heads, bruised ribs and squinting behind their venetian blinds,
who threw themselves from bridges as monoprint smears,
like angry raindrops and kamikaze headlines in local newspapers.

My family came here on a boat from space,
dipping toes in the cosmos with stars in their eyes.