Silverback stride delight neon lime road bike

I can’t ride outside, the cars croak too loud, the magpies swoop too low

in our little cul de sac

Wait till Ba gets home, but he says it’s too dark to practice now

And tucks himself back behind the wheel

I can sleep anywhere except on a bed, he laughs

Fishing boats, sputtering sedans, late buses, full trains, paper planes

Symptoms include fatigue, uneasiness, dizziness and vomiting

If he stays still for too long, the faster and further

away

he is to who he was,

the better.

And so, I fold him into a frog like he taught me all those centuries ago

I tuck him into our letterbox where he can finally sleep

With no return address
I waddle back and forth under the shrinking carport

Throwing bang snap poppers at a head of weeds crowning out a

Split on the concrete patio

Slow down. Always have one foot on the ground

Our backyard is as big as a baby’s thumb, but I go fast until I can’t stop and

Tug the tire out the wall of our granny flat

To find a hole in space and time that I’m sure wasn’t there before

I poke my head through the gash and watch my mum

Hang a husk of my body on the rotary line

my arms and legs flail as she beats me with a tennis racket

I wheel the holy trinity of bins to cover it up
And beg to lie with you on the mesh hammock

I got here first! Wait your turn!

I fan away your tears with a palm leaf

And rock you back

You are eleven, youngest of eleven, lucky last

Nothing to eat but cassava,

even now you miss the taste of cyanide

I rock you forth

You are seventy seven, in bed by seven,

starving for sounds of me,

I try to catch you in the moment, as you are now

Before your tattooed brows fade green, before your brittle hands dry out, before you forget who you are

I tangle myself to you 
We are bound

not by the red thread of destiny

pinkies

but connected by the tapeworm of fate

belly buttons

When you become a mum, you’ll understand

Next time

aroundnuora

I’ll make sure

You’re my daughter

So I can finally ununderstand.