What Does it Feel Like?

Unsteady, like the halting journey of

a raindrop down a windowpane or

when a wind sends clouds across the sky and

you get caught in their storm, drenched, and

you wonder fuck, where am I? What just happened?

You hand over your entire month’s wages to a busker and then see

art in a smashed shop window;

You eat salad for supper and

spend too much on a scented

drawer liner and you dance

to silence while imagined sunlight

thatches your gaps and

raindrops, like sugar sprinkles,

colour every bitter bite of life.

You soak your flesh in cream,

exfoliate, until you feel

brand new. Inside and out.

You feel,

finally.