Promised Lands

Unblinking like the dead
goldfish floating
He stands staring
with his one good eye
at the neighbours
their bathroom window.
Tied up, mouths stuffed
his envy turning
into a slow concern
The thieves are having
fried eggs for breakfast
on the patio. Three
Young boys with
happy eyes thinking
already about the
latest Nokia
the electric bill
imported pampers
for the new baby.

The House Yawned

a creamy white yawn
of the unsuspcting
woke up
The bill boards
blocking the fa├žade
peeled away
like an onion skin.
Just a tenth of
opaqueness between
you and the world
of the mall road
dear house
Where millions
of humming
cancerous cars
We played together
Hide and seek in
your calm
cobwebbed corridors
eighty green years ago.
Now memory is a rusty key
To what
I know not.
Nothing on the other side.
We are but scattered seeds
Unhappening to happen again.
My grandchild has my hands.
The marbles, whorly planets
tap tapping against
the wooden floor.