and a solar storm raged
the sky to soft pink
in the garden I’d watered that morning.
We’d just agreed it was to be
our last summer here
Together, and we said
“I will remember this forever”
and meant it.
It was the week it felt my dreams beganÂ
and I bled through my underwearÂ
on the way to the London show.
Discovered Jo was to die soon,
on the way to Sheffield.
It was 23 degrees in May
and my thighs wore shiningÂ
beads of sweat,
while I read that they’re going to drop bombs on Rafah
and cried to the red RobinÂ
roosting in the ivy.
That week I felt so proud
And so ashamed.
So happy
And so sad.Â
That week i saw my idols live
and die.
Saw my nephew roll for the first time.
Asked my lover to move in,
trembling as I did.Â
I felt fear rip through my torso
as I rubbed tiger balm into my aching neck
and traced the silver sliver of the moonÂ
with camphor scented fingers.Â
It was the week it all began
Or ended,
The week I saw Mitski live,
The week my dad fell off his bike,
The week Albini died,
The week I saw the Northern Lights
and cried and cried and cried,
The week before I turned 29.Â
- I wrote this on Saturday. Last week was the most mental week.