Where is your home?

The place that you fled,
You’ve taken it with you.
The place that’s there now?
You’ve never even seen it.

Where is your home?

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I want the dog

I want the dog to come back
running
across the wet grass –
wet tongue hanging from
her happy mouth,
her tail wagging and snagged with
brambles.

I want her to bark.
I want her to have dirty paws
and one ear
folded back on itself.

But most of all
I want her to smell
of dog
and feel like
a dog;
and not just to look like
a dog
sitting in a field in a photograph.

A limerick about a lemur

A lemur in far Madagascar
Was partial to partly cooked pasta
When asked was it more
Healthy when raw
He said, “Well it helps me go faster.”

Found this limerick* in a book of email correspondence between me and a friend. It’s the first entry in the book, which she made as a keepsake for me, and is dated the 15th August 2000.

What a decade it’s been! I don’t just mean the big things which have happened during that time: that relationship, the MSc, the depression; but the small things too: the subtle changes in hopes, dreams and fears. Still, i remain fortunate in my friends and our conversations. And whether or not i remember to say it, i remain deeply grateful for both.

* One of my better efforts. You would not want to read the worse ones, believe you me.