laurengo.ca

My bedroom is woven from effort torn from the world and repurposed for comfort

The music is gleaned from old Shanghai, stolen from her smoke filled bars

The lamplight is the rivers of British Columbia churned through a hydro dam

and painted over the dark

The blankets are taken from people’s charity, taken with an open hand and laid out like a nest for this bird

But the writing I forge here makes it my domain, here I dwell in the umbra of the muses