Constuction had begun

On a four story country home.

Five fathoms from the lake.

A catalyst of shadows

From my bedroom window.

 

And when the staff called:

"Lights out!" I'd climb

Down from my window and walk

Through the fields of stars

Where nightbirds hissed

The gentle rush of my path.

 

It was quiet in there

On a bioclast chair

Among cement and insects

Huffing petrol from a sock

Trying to forget the future.

 

But now the house is built.

The insects have given up on it.

All the dead insects leaving their home

With nothing to show for it.

 

And now the nightbirds hiss

For someone else

Lost in the untamed shades

Of another's future.