With a milestone for a
pillow
with hard asphalt for a mattress
I’m ready to make my way
home
through this midday heat, and
darkness;
the borders are closed to
traffic
they have slammed shut their
gateways
and a mushroom cloud is churning,
turning the hamster wheels
of days.
But I wear my face lighthearted
I keep the talk convivial
and the laundry colour
sorted,
a close focus on trivial.
For the rules mustn’t be broken
and life must always go on
though home’s no longer a
shelter
all meanings and routes are
gone.
