i – a poem

i

I am alone on a plane

and I am fragile and physical, blood in my head;

I found my god in chaos, while you searched

for yours under my skin.  

I left myself miles away

where the great rivers of traffic intersect 

south of London.  You’re under the sea

breathing your lies into the damaged ecosystems

while my heart tries to recover from yours.

Love, love, a false prophet, plastic 

in your lungs.  The air here smells of pine resin

and I am not your broken home any longer.  

Daisy Harris