The Foster Boy’s Bedroom
emptied the drawers emptied the chest of its drawers emptied
the room of the chest unhung the rattling hangers hubbard and cupboard
and bare to the bone: alien airplane bear dice dog farmyard games
model remote shinpad soldier track tyrannosaurus xylophone
all untoyboxed. Picture hooks holding up rectangles of clean paint
which he cannot deface the coloured crayons have all gone along
with the paper and scissors and cords for the blinds dark from now on
so he can curl up in his at least he’s safe place she is on the other side -
the side with the handle – listening with a lightbulb in her at least i’m safe place
(the gnawing is coming from inside, the sobbing, the rocking are inside)
and safe could be floating, leaning back on the wind and not falling,
asleep and sweet dreaming, held in the palm of a hand and not shrinking,
or so she imagined once when she offered her home and thought sticks
and stones could not hurt things shattered could be mended boys broken fixed