The Hope Museum

Now you have taken
You shattered me
To smithereens
You buried me alive
And kept
My heart
In a glass box
To watch it
On a dark shelf in your museum
Of hope;
You win – you’ve taken
The arms I fought
And the light I fought

The Bleak House

The toys I used to love,
The loves I have outgrown,
The hungry dogs of hopes,
Which have devoured
One another,
Voids, interspersed with holes,
Mountains of wind and smoke,
Oceans, painted on desert sands
By jinns and ghosts –
My memories;
At my house at the edge of the world,
With cracked windows and doors agape
I’ll look away as I lock away
Everything I have
Ever known;
I will call the bleak house my home,
Sit and sit on the steps outside,
Staring vacantly out at things
Without knowing their names
Or mine,
My memories