three blue rails and a swaddle of silk:
things i hold on to while my parents pour down because they belong to me.
five ballpoints and a case of ink:
i work up my name into the hall whitewash, i’ve been told hardly anyone my age has the know-how. i take up hiding.
seven white shirts and a red running hood:
the path is clear, i’m to be an engineer. bailed out of midday naps, i take up spying because certain knowledge is power.
nine inch frowns and a silver rood:
mother does not belong to me. i mind, do i mind, mind (one, mine, quiet), still do.
eleven dwarves and a cottage of mud:
magic is to world what crystal is to clear. i am picking up Big Words because mine’s a Big Future. also, friendship starts here.
thirteen pebbles and a flask of blood:
i’m to teach maths because no one else will. the French excuse of a meal /humour /fine education is so scant, i stop minding the r. i take up nationalism.
fifteen nights and a bottle of rum:
i am you and you are she and she need not be anything but pretty.
seventeen gates and a rotten gum:
i close my eyes cause it’s all so glum. also, i hate chem, scan the papers for Truth, take up acting, binging, failing.
nineteen steps down and a herd of buffalo:
you teach me how not to let go. besides, yours are the choicest gifts.
twenty-one nails and a chain of fools:
this is where you exit, correctly, as prescribed by Ovid. your Bach was driving me mad. i hoard the gifts cause you’re mine.
twenty-three bites and a sharpish mind:
trickster recharged by one of her kind. chem and French humour are still on the hate list. i take up spinach and deadlines.
the growing up happens in the evens.
