I told you so, I told you so
--
That speck of dust
Oh that lonely swish of the hand
The smooth shape of stone
at the bottom of your driveway
retuning the strings
holding your face in your palms
watching the slow afternoon sun
yawn over dead paddocks
reaching down into the basket
and that last apple; break its skin
tear it the fuck up
those claw marks
down your bedroom wall
of nights passed in fear
light fingers on keys
pit pit patting towards a closing door
the swell of the red armchair of your youth
your black and white journal
and the soft white of your ceiling
hearing the furious purr of your sleeping cat
and the mindless whirrrr of your summer fan
mistakes made by moonlight
stepped on the crack that broke your back
a tumbled smash of skin, hair, eyes, lips
still wrists on cheekbones
smash, writhe, smash
fourth left ringed with love
--
looking down the barrel of a gun
those things
do you remember?
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