A peace talk is taking place
between these wounds. The treaty,
signed on scraps of paper.
In my town with no streetlights
I reduce the water supply.
Everything grows at slow speed.
I get used to an economy of words,
collect thoughts and colours, spend
my days memorising chapters.
For those trapped outside it is
a morning of doubt, traffic and
building cranes. For everyone else,
tomorrow takes its time. I’ve been
force-fed the fundamentals of spring.
Learn to keep walking. Starve better.
Maria Stadnicka
.