The bathroom loo had a wonderful flush,
a properly old school bowl and tank
and the tub, in its own room,
imagine a bath without the knock
of a belly full of pee cutting in

Outside was a garden of fully grown trees,
no matter they give nothing to eat.
Oh the peace that rests in these five homes,
in a neighbourhood where men build fifty
to tower high. Bliss is knowing that whatever
they dream, peace is intact here.

everything he says stays
especially my name in vexed tones,
he’s ready to leave,
but i’m still dressing, selecting earings,

So he roars my name into the walls,
no, he’s changed, now he drives radiowaves
into everything, dialing my cell to say
“Let’s go” in frustration.

i am not all bad. I listen,
and call out a response we’ve ritualized
to mean, “soon.” He doesn’t believe me,
and i am at once ashamed and amused.

Daddy misbehaves also, and i throw my fit
in turn, “Why didn’t you take your insulin?!”
i want to know, hurt and annoyed. Feeling
two things at once beats feeling one.

He shrugs, he thinks, “Surely what is one less
needle in my skin today?” “Life,” I say,
“I need you alive and well.” He shifts, changes
the subject, I’m glad we spoke at all.

Leaving is not an option because I got your tire
fixed today, because you hug like a solution.
Because you get me fried chicken
when I’m sad, hungry or tipsy,
because you know how to talk to Kenyan Police
and ward off nasty old men. Because I make you
eat vegetables so you will live a long life with me.
Because you don’t get the logic but eat them anyway.

We will not leave each other although the girl
in Costa Rica wanted you, and you her, because
you came home to me unscathed, regardless.
We hold on because you told me everything and I
did not panic, although listening was hard
and she won’t be the last. I will stay because you prove
you are mine. I will take my antibiotics dutifully
for you when I am sick, because I accept that me ill
is worried knots in your belly, as you depressed
is calm focus in mine and all the wrong words on my lips.
I will believe in you because of that look in the dark
of your uncle’s car, long before a promise, a threat or a kiss;
because you love me more anyway, and I am safe.

(April 30 edit)