Bipolar Wooden Panels by Hana Kassam

Hana Kassam | Nov 3rd, 2019 | poetry | No Comments


Surrounded by white closets,
perks of colour never last,
at least not a cuttlefish.
Mirrors fade through the endless grass,
and deserts are handy for a foreigner.
Never realised where the need for a heater came from,
Christmas lights frighten ex neighbours.
Smelly sports shoes line corridors,
intentions became clear as night,
trailing through the blistered timber.

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