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I am almost out of spells and need to rest
surrounded by woodgrain and the seaside
cerulean against white
where generation lie upon generation
fighting fires & watching the dog die
between the ironing board & where father bred the big blind fish
where the sound slips in waves
and I am hardly ever.

He has wholes in his hands
just like the holes in mine
only more of them.

When I have rested and got my spells back
then we may go back to the big waters,
glacier cold and choked with trees,
or parts of trees
surrounded by woodgrain and the seaside.