Passenger

succulentI’m a stranger in my life

mid-screen

ambling inopportune

breaking the cheer of online victories

more treasured in absence

more valued for my silences

in-between words I bite back.

 

Composted worlds I’ve suppressed

the landscapes drip fluid

colours realign

the print-out never quite

what I put in.

 

I’m a stranger to my life.

The path peters out in moss-hung dead ends

Reed in a cluster by a pool

caked to mud.

Weeds have overgrown my roots

also my tongue.