You are moving out of a flat you never lived in
attempting to figure out what is yours, what belongs
to the absent landlord, the shadow that is burned
into the fraying wicker carpet. You fill cardboard
boxes with soap and shells. The sofa disintegrates
at your touch and is swept away by ant colonies.
Corridors lead to hidden courtyards draped
in cherry blossom that smell of smoke and honey.
Attempting to retrace your steps, you find new
kitchens filled with tightly stacked billiard tables.
Cupboards are either empty or hold only rice
grains by the million, which you have to count
and sort out individually. On one shelf, an electric
steamer. The sight of it stops you still. Some great
calamity has happened to you, some reckoning
that has splintered and split your mundane life.
If only you could remember anything about it.
David Ralph Lewis
David Ralph Lewis (www.davidralphlewis.co.uk) is a Forward Prize nominated poet based in Bristol, UK who has been published in Marble Poetry Magazine, Nine Muses Poetry and Neon Magazine. He has two pamphlets, Our Voices in the Chaos published by Selcouth Station and Refraction. He enjoys dancing badly at gigs and attempting to grow vegetables.
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