i used to live in a room looking out over an alley
the cops chased up and down, searching for something
they never found. music late into the night
sirens sing from the road. here in this basement room
it is quiet but for the rain falling down
a crack in the wall behind my head like the spine
of someone else’s back reaches up like roots
like the slugs rising every night through the earth below
wet from the mersey’s rivulets.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀our relations,
between the slugs and us, are not governed
by contracts, nuptials, or tenancy agreements.
we have resorted to more practical methods
a ring of salt around our bed, the rest resigned
as theirs - clothes, books, all coated in glistening trails
my lipgloss shines alluring repellent
we are uneasy cohabitants, but cohabitants
we are all passing through
rising, falling, searching, but content
never to find.
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