I went home, I came back away, I don’t know what else I can tell you.

All night and all year the heat has undressed me. Not in like,

a beautiful sense. Even my shins, damp with missed summer.

I am feeling it wrong. I don’t know what else I can tell you.

What else is still good. Today I threw some chive seeds into some soil

and tossed the whole thing together. When Sarah found her horse’s body

I couldn’t help her. And it keeps happening. I don’t know what else I can tell you.

Every time I build my bed I lose my sense of self. It is like losing a needle in a stack

of IKEA flatpack slats. Someday we will live in a better place,

the same place but better. I will have learnt to drive a small motor vehicle.

And you know I don’t mind how long until my girlfriend reenters the country.

To bury a horse, you have to dig so many hours, so wide.