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#100: 100

a hundred days later

i still lay on the same bed

but with 100 tiny poems

now extracted from my head


rituals born from digital ink

and getting out onto the forest floor

witnessing the work of the wind

and writing what i saw


i send my salutations

gratitude for the grit and goo

to the stars and space that make us

to the good we keep and the good we lose

#099: a 99 Flake

when he told me a 99 was £1.50

I thought, surely it’s time to rename

but we like our nostalgic past

and for memory, we’ll always pay


but how often will I clench a cone

too fragile for my grip

melting loss fly through the folds of my fingers

pride still saying it’s fine, I’ve got it

#098: teal yoga mat

having my back since 2016

biodegradable mat with little frays at the seams

the tiger-striped teal followed me undeterred

from lively London to loveable Luxembourg

a mirror disguised in padded opaque rubber

for hands to grip, for feet to flutter

upside down, then on the ground the breath sighs, it sings

as this wild thing tries another wild thing