children sit on floating benches, smoking pulsing electricity
through beams of neglect; spinning webs of burnt autonomy,
they deal cards of fortune, raising stakes, to fold – to execute
cheating through smouldering sunrays they remembered it all

they remember growing beards, rising within freedom
and through broken promises of eternal love, to drown
in intoxicants, wishing to remain broken and greying
so they were able to return, unfinished and scripted

blank pages of knowing filled their brains to the brim,
swirling data through the eyes that examined the ticking world
of soft bedding and cold coffins, buttons had been placed
inside their wardrobes for the mental breakdowns of the night

small palms grew into worn bark, sprouting amber leaves
and unfolding into a photo album, you remember swinging
with that red cardigan, you remember the flightless bird
who died and couldn’t remember how to return home

the children ate, and talked, lifting the burden of their smiles
bruising their bruises with the lust of escape, they decided,
tying knots with expertise they assisted eachothers suicides
hanging serenely from the decaying trees, they sang to death

wiser and slower, they emerged, translucent; limping forwards
studying their younger bodies, they laughed and laughed and laughed
they helped the last child expire and heard the click of her neck give,
carrying their baggage to the floating table, they resumed playing.