the end notes of the day in yellow.

still in my pyjamas and typing.
i find myself back in bed.

rubbed back like table and polished.
cushioned in feathers and imitation wool.

i am complete bird, part animal. woven and stretched over wire.
i am linen. so fresh out of the packet i was born with wrinkels.
i have travelled the world and never been washed

my family dances tango and takes phonecalls
in the last days of the garden of birds.

we are greatful in our longing.