In my teeth

I've lost depth or altitude or both. I issued myself a compass but it only ever points to the bath, true magnetic north submerged. I've been thinking that my head sloshes as it tips. Grey water. I have become desperate for clean sheets on a broad bed in a clean room. My thirst for surfaces would be unstoppable if it didn't require motion.

There are too many metal surfaces in this room. I can feel them in my teeth. This should be a reason to go home. I need to feel sunlight through my windows. The Peach has become a cave. I leave in lemon weak early light and return first to the dark hall. I move from switch to switch. I am switch restricted, only able to be in a room with a source of light and heat. I can throw words out across the world but I'm bound by light and heat as though at the radiant edges nothing exists.

Winter used to be only blessed relief from Western Sydney's oven daze summer but in the city its a cave switch ritual holding my arms across my chest. I can feel these metal surfaces in my teeth. It is a strange currency. I trade you this day for the right to carry vegetables or the reliable turning of the hot tap in my shower. I trade you endurance of the metal feeling in my teeth for a night sleeping in clean sheets.

Comments

Anonymous said…
This commodity is traditionally stripped copper wire, clean, untinned, uncoated, unalloyed copper wire and cable. It is to be free of burnt wire which is brittle.