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You taste like sunshine daylight; she would have enjoyed your beam. We're always leaving pieces of ourselves in other lovers' bedrooms. She taught me to hold my heart in both hands and my fathers taught me to be cautious of who to give it to. Priorities become squashed in the memory of death though. Ladybirds always find their way into my work and butterfly effects remind me to think moves ahead as in chess. My aunties taught me the ants are made to die. You felt my tiger stripes and didn't lie without flinching. I smoked out the words too quick as usual and you sucked them in. The queens popped under shoe like grapes between teeth. I rubbed your feet as you lay dying in the conservatory. I told you I was back. I wasn't. I told you I'd be back. I will.
I swallow overcast skies as if swallowing cement. My father's father probably wallows in the same self-made pity as I sometimes do and always did. Kings look tiny in comparison to the sparrows fostered by my grandmother's husband. Breakfast and breakups sometimes have the same flavour of sting. The ants have grown and grown and now have wings. The moon is almost new, and I can't find the light inside you.
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Rachelle Foster
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Rachelle Foster
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