carapace

so the damp starts to cut into the brickwork that insulates the flat

a drip forms and later mould inhabits the carpet

who enforced this trudging rule that one thing

when stagnant must become another: rain that is not rain is rot

the object of revolt laid down is just a stone like any other

this room is my home as long as I pay for it

command strip the walls, a bucket for the leak

glass in a cheap frame returning my image as if

it’s an artefact and I will know what to do with it

when I lost my keys it felt like revolution

the objects that I am briefly no longer apply

but I trip to the real estate and pay for the pleasure of re-entry

rain still working its way through the doorframe

seeking out transformation out of habit destiny

old walls or poor sealing on another storey