Place of safety
Green holding bay,
John Lennon Piano heater fixed to the wall.
Miniature specs of dust are tiny stick men,
Dancing on the floor, they draw me in.
A small slit in the window shows a rabbit.
Poised to slide.
I can’t take my eyes off the red drainpipe, a section of tunnel slide, crying to be slid.
Each time a door slams everything in me jumps, hypersensitive terror.
As darkness falls shadows come to the windows, wolves dancing and changing faces.
I can’t draw my eyes away. The dark shadow of the bathroom melts up and down the walls.
When morning comes I see a bird at the window building its nest. Is it the bird which saved me? I am not sure it’s really there, but a perpetual symbol of hope popping up at the most desperate of times.