Smithereens Press Chapbooks 'Rootless' by Jennifer Matthews | Page 21

Starter Home

Alone on a mantel coated in dust, a Child
of Prague won’t meet our gazes.
You think the nest in the fireplace romantic;
I trace the wall's mouldy cracks
to their conclusions –
dead-ends in cobwebbed corners.
A bee bashes his soft body
at the other side of the window, testing
again and again the invisible barrier.
Not yet woken from what ifs we walk
the small road to the beach, single file,
keep clear of cars rushing home.
Facing the ocean we sit side by side
to play make-believe, old as we are,
calculating every imaginary resource
save the change
in my pocket.
Silent,
I dig my feet into sand.
You bury your hands.
Before us, waves
tumble and grasp –
failing
failing
failing
to leave the shore.
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