Green house

I put my naked feet on cold bathroom tiles
and told my toes they were patio slabs in shade.
I stood two inches from my bedside lamp wearing
loose grey shorts and a blue baseball cap.
The splinters and nails sticking up from the
living room floorboards were unwelcome weeds.
My bookshelves were unbending fences
draped in a million leafed pages of hard-spined
climbing plants. The toilet was a dirty pond,
the fireplace a BBQ, the drooping sofa a hammock.
When night came, the broken kitchen bulb
was the moon surrounded by LED spotlight stars.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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