Im divorcing the ground.

She claims that I owe her a hundred miles from my Bed

Room to the door. I do not.

She claims I owe her the shock of cold air on my naked skin

And scrolling through newsfeeds. I do not.

I instead am intent on engaging my bed, who has agreed the

Vertical world overpowering. He is gentle and warm and

Allows me to sleep, which the ground says is a great calm

Delusion, so I say to her, well, we won’t be

Splitting the outdoors, you take the lot, my new lover

Has feather heads and porcelain legs and she says

Fine. But you are fooling yourself if you think that will be enough in

Two years time. To which I say

You’re just jealous, that I was never this happy

With you.

Categories: Poetry