To be a boy
To count, to turn, to see, and frame
Her face, the morning, a clock, the train
To walk down steps as it moves away
To hold your breath and go about your day.
To lovers choosing lovers
of a similar ilk;
as I pour salt into milk
Until the 27th
Christmas visits to the family home
Whilst lovely, make you feel alone
Your childhood bed
Supports your head
Whilst your heart sinks like a stone.