The Absent Family
you do not come too quickly to my door
I have walked
a way
without you
within these walls
the years have made me small
and my will
wearies
of passers by
I lose myself in objects
abuse my furniture
in ways I had not planned
I saddle myself
with some past kindness
and throw my displeasure to ground
I am wretched
arrested
by your absence
sat
in my discomfort
you do not come quickly to my dooryou are mythology
enough size
more reason
to converse with my others
I circulate rumours
and mill
playng the room as good news
