memory, Poetry, Politics

99 red ballons go by

We fixate over fixtures, Curtains and trimmings, We measure lighting Too bright, though brimming. Lying on rugs: gazing At the sofa - genuine faux leather Hiding behind aircon double glazing Sweating, no matter the weather. Does it matter whether We own bubbles in the sky? Till we find a home We are all just renting,… Continue reading 99 red ballons go by