an ant in my bed

antlers

the evening
the morning
the day you were born
the time when it started
where it all began
the years evaporating
the dust settling
the natter the natter that chatter
the toast
with tea
without tea
then the sympathy
the simpatico
the evening
the night
the morning
the day you were born

on that day

I remembered I love you
your brittle your gentle your longing your loving
the Italy the brutally
the morning the morgen the Portuguese tart
the job the explosion the hope the sincerity
the breath the breath and always the breath
the national the interpol the tallest man the shortest day
the Florence the machine
the madmen
the list the list and always the list
the wine the women the song
the post modern explosion
the friend request
the de friend
the denouement
the unravelling
the ant in my bed

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

2 comments

    1. hehhe… my friend Jonathan would find this comparison very funny… I’m not sure I live up to the compliment thought. ;)

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