home

there is no home left
in the cupboard
in bookcases
beds
quietness damp and damned
water coming inside
there is no roof left
streets above my head
full of sand
and smell of grass
which has just been cut down
in winter
by swan’s neck
areas of doubts
ares of doubts
listening to the water
though
there is no water left in plants in woman’s
just old folks
with knives
small ones from antique services
big ones from their own bodies
and now
they are cutting down everything
which has been left
for us