Tung Tide.

Tung Tide

Waiting to be allowed
outside
to eat a satsuma
innocence struck blind
by the smell of christmas
standing over the sink
when there is no sink
quick sand
looking out the window
to the dreaming grass
i want to spill the juices of this fruit
all out there
wheres theres
ants
are you naked
was told
never to ask
questions
when writing
poetry
is it time to start following
there advice
trolleys and pills
i guess im not right in
im still on the border
two fingers meeting
magnets and
a horse to ride