Change

Where are you to lay
when basic fucking
city harshness
cuts your breath from you,
eats those shoulderblades,
when your right hand
no longer speaks
to your left?
Where are you to take
those camel stored dreams,
the sustenance that comes
from mandolins and ochre,
the scent of a golden root
so strong it pierces eyes?
Where will you hide
from natural severing,
who rides you as an ocean whale
singing songs to an ageing grief?
Will you make a new home
when tsunamis of truth
have flat-washed the belly,
when brown silence is left,
walks and walks
and walks
and waking over,
over
and over,
the taste of her,
will you find small lightness
in the embryo of day,
hope it'll reignite final embers?