I survived by sitting quietly, invisible.
A back straightening stool, my lone edifice.

By eating the last of everything; kidney beans
included. Watching people, alive, outside:

They lanked, they swerved, one sat squat
as an injured accordion, a deep throated

wah, as his head appeared then disappeared
above and beneath this window of mine.

I survived by counting the Robins, there was one.
Has there ever been more than one?

I survived by differentiating, by differentiating
between grey and lighter grey, this was colourful.

I survived by pissing through the abandoned cat flap.
I never took a shite, it didn’t seem right. I was happy

to hold it, to grow pregnant, to suffer like woman.
I survived by pumping a two-pound sugar bag.

Afraid to consume, should it rot my rotting teeth
and bring dentists in their white coats, stumbling

over dog shit and dead children. I survived
by opening the door and stepping outside.

Kris,

Here's to the survivors...and that one Robin.

Peter

bump for survivors