She threw open
the doors and windows
of the house.
Not one exit
to clear flies, but
all entry points –
a home redefined
in my dictionary.
Exposed as paper
facing rain, my clear font
bloodied in the drizzle, blurred
the lines I’d learnt
read and settled on
at the margins
I grew old
watching the forest
collect around my doormat,
a monoglot in dissection
of the sway, of each branch
of each tree.
Whilst at my feet
she watered the seedlings fallen
with the water
from our roof
I drew my toes around
the edge of the step
with white grip
yet, green shoots recovered
to the tune on message
I spoke, ran through the cracks
between toes, she hoped
symbiosis
would make me accept
a world of experiences.
It did. The growth
found food
in my muscles
travelled warm
up my organs
burst through my eyes
my roof, my house.
Roots through ruins
crumbled panes, framing gone
all visions resolved into one.
About Lee Mackenzie
Lee Mackenzie is the ‘Post-Growth Poet’. His poems aim to start conversations about the relationships we have with the world. Themes of ecology, consumerism and De-growth are the work’s life blood: sometimes they can be life-giving, sometimes they’re as ugly as an open wound.