now i have moved out for good.

farewell fairy bread, farewell forehead

kisses, farewell mum’s wedding rings, the

gold loop-de-loops they constructed between

my shoulder blades, farewell lavender

winters. in rushes adulthood with

all its dark water. i’ve been trying harder

in the city, touching the bark of

every tree when i walk outside,

searching for a world to grow old with.

i’ve been wading knee-deep into

poems of lukewarm earnestness and

just standing there, while they glide

politely around my calves. i’ve been

trying to fix my pen grip, which has been

wrong since year four, my stubborn fingers.

i’ve been used to getting everything right and

now here i am on the street with my hands up

against the trees, asking to wash their

feet, asking if my fingers make logical shapes,

is my thumb too fond of the first pointer

knuckle? dad sends me a photograph: plovers

on excursion in the industrial sector of

caringbah. nature arrives astonishingly

he says and the birds supernova from the

tree i’m venerating, calling to each other

across the long hours of the air.