Half a vicious year, this crocodile cycle, I’m all teeth today.
i.
I woke up in that room again,
In a house built entirely of ash;
Crumbling like a cigarette sandcastle.
It gives way like sugar to water, and I with it.
ii.
I woke up in that flowerbed again,
In a country of gardens.
Blooming like Babylon in the spring.
I trade sugarwater for bumblebee blessings,
And think honeythoughts about Irises and rose tint.