Places We Sleep In

The ghosts were outside
my bedroom again last night.
Their shouts ran shudders
through my walls
and I was returned
to a child climbing
through a village,
of bed sheets and pillows,
which even under invasion
only ever collapsed softly.
The sheets with the yellow
caterpillars patterned across
were always my favorites.
So I made them the sky
when it fell,
a rain of bodies,
I imagined wings
and butterflies. Those soft
thuds were nothing
but cocoons.



*This is an older poem of mine. I reared it and was interested in how I’ve reincorporated a couple of the images for later poems.



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4 responses to “Places We Sleep In

  1. This is a delightful piece – well done

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