The view from the front door of our first home.

the view is different

where once it was all driveway

and wall and fence

and sky

it is now the corrugated iron fence

of a shed

the neighbours’ houses

taller than ours

an awning

and a little sky


surrounded by boxes

i feel, perhaps, we have

too many things

my bones still ache

from moving

my heart is heavy


i’ve been sleeping so deeply

meanwhile, the idea lingers:

how nice it would be

to live

out of a suitcase



it’s not just stuff, you know

it’s not just the view

and it’s not that i don’t see

the superficiality

of material goods

but when we moved

a part of us

was left there


no matter how much you gain

in the future

you can never get that back.

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