In the city where buildings loom into the night sky,
where books are read by mothers in warm bedrooms,
I walk the borders near to the house where I once lived
listening to the foxes bark as they run the alleyways.
Home - where family customs were observed
and sibling conspiracy was a defragmented jigsaw,
where my mother dressed me in the dark velvet dress
with lace collar, clogging, and against all I was.
And the cold bricks fired the cold north rooms
where icicles formed on the insides of the windows.
I dreamed of unicorns and anywhere not here.
I sought somewhere else to make my own headlines.