I look for you in the shadows, behind doors
at night, hoping I'll believe in ghosts.
I listen in between squealing tyres,
the street dance nearby; call my name, please.
Blue-gray eyes, toothless smile on a piece of paper,
my fingers tire from stroking gloss. You promised
me I would be loved. But you let go. They all left.
And now I have become you, granny.
Waiting, waiting, on catastrophe. That is all
we know. Our limbs go, our men leave,
we drain the ones left. We sit chained to safety seats.
In my dream last night, you called me beautiful and said,
" Do these two things: hold on to my love, it is eternal;
then find your home, where you will be happy.There, I wait."