day 2

there’s a hole in one of my socks, worn down through the heel, my merino socks three pairs bought for me by a man who’s been paying to have me spit in his mouth for a very, very long time he’s seen me through university and now we can’t do that, can we. a hole in the heel, heel with no sock, one pair in the wash and one pair heel-holed asymmetrical on my feet and one pair half-darned on the bunk bed in my childhood bedroom with the wool and needle still in waiting for me to come to dinner on saturday as usual to pick them up “it’ll be a miracle if you come over and don’t go home missing something” my sibling said before she was stranded in america 6am on day 2 and she’s flying home my childhood bedroom in self-quarantine sheets ready for her don’t lose my needle.

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