the eyelashes of fawns

My darling
Heroic, struggling, stuck

Why do you use that sharp tone again?
Why do I let you?

Stepfather to my son – not easy –
you suffer from claustrophobia
in our messy domestic universe shot through with threads of beauty.

Take time for yourself
Go out and lift your eyes to the sky.
Bring back gossamer, tiny feathers, the eyelashes of fawns.
Come and make a nest for your stepson.
Curl yourself around him
softly

 

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