• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 07

Forms of Pleasure


Your child is looking at the rainbows—

she likes drawing them in her mind.
And you, you’re always

finding comfort
in books or in music,


or in a million things seldom bought.

When you first decided to leave home, you

were leaving a husband drunk in bed;
he had been particularly difficult
the night before.

In leaving though
you hadn’t thought it’d be this challenging,


Forms of Pleasure


this beautiful— butterflies
borrowing colours from your scarves;

caterpillars lending you silk
for where your fabric tore.

Now you’re here, you’re learning
to love in better ways,

your child smiles looking at you,
and you’re relearning


the idea of home:

you’re now here
in a field, your eyes closed; you,

holding her hand; her,
full of warmth, listening:


Forms of Pleasure


the birds, oh, listen to them clamour
against one-another in love; listen to them
find shelter

for another under their quiet wings.