we who never felt at home
at home followed hazard-tape
roads to a green-for-go city
where we could finally belong
in our own bodies

made-up & magpied
we rode underground
carriages to Trash Palaces
Sub Stations & Ghettos
of our generation

camped hours in star-crossed
gutters to darken doorways descend
stairways to havens where flowers
not yet in bloom walled rooms
we wanted to live in

learning to dance on our own
two feet glitching the beat
like dirty CDs until third pint
streamed pelvis intervened
& we murdered floors

in lightshows singing rainbows
not bluetones our every limb
scrolling & tapping
into pheromones sweating
from ancestral ceilings

we were Blitz Club & Caravan
Dionysian Apollonian
hunting cigarette smoke
undergrowth for hyacinths
& gathering them

in form unexpected unfiltered
sculptural not digital
our phones for exchanged numbers
not Ubers we Oystered
uncapitalised zones

to first homes shared
with chosen sisters brothers
others our seconds always there
Marvellous Mother Misfit
until they were not

& now we are permitted
a place at the table to order
from the same menu to have
any petaled-peccadillo beamed
to our own bedroom

& only memories mirrorball
luxury flats Crossrail tracks
as the city instars again
& the young heel their own
way as we before them

 

*
From Magma 92, Ownership

 

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