Room

Wind was hard up against the house
sucking doors, irritating curtains.
Naked bodies cocooned
hoping their clothes were pegged on tight.

She went out
leaving the earth
one foot at a time.
She glimpsed herself

page 8

wrapped around cars,
visiting windows briefly.
She passed by painted rails
yarding off the street.

There was a smell of sleep.
Gusts pushed sheets, they sailed
flapping like insects
billowing into brief pillows.

The bed was soft and dewy
she covered her face with her arm
leaves dressed her hair.

She dreamed.
Before it ended
they came for her.
She woke from
a hotel with
a half-moon bed
and a swimming pool
shaped like a guitar.

She said: I am ready.
I want to be arrested by Helen Mirren
then I will give my words
in evidence
more true than ever before.