Dissociative Feng Shui

Whilst staying at your mother’s house,

you take a stroll downstairs
and stand, in silence, in her kitchen.

You rearrange the cutlery
upon the kitchen’s faded surface,
and make a xylophone of knives and forks.

It comes as no surprise: they play,

without a harmony, a tune
you have no way of recognizing.

You unplug her kettle, placing

it in the oven, which you cover
with tea-bags and washing-up liquid.

An unheard voice informs you that,

apart from footstep-muffling socks,
you seem to be completely naked.

You clothe yourself with items from

the fridge: a low-fat yoghurt t-shirt,
milk trousers, and a cream-bun hat.

Now dressed for action, your attention

is turned towards the downstairs bathroom,
the landscaped garden, and the lounge.

And in the morning, when she spots
her sofa up a tree, you explain
that this is how you’ve always felt.

(24th July, B-d-A)