Go now. Recite your poem to your aunt. Poem by Lisa Robertson

Go now. Recite your poem to your aunt.
I threw myself to the ground.
Where were you in the night?
In a school among the pines.
What was the meaning of the dream?
A rough clay bottle. A carved wooden salt-box with a swivelling lid. A tin travelling
trunk painted green.
What would feel like home?
What would a school feel like?
I haven't yet been satisfied.
Let's organize a pageant.
Many boys, dressed as nymphs, each carrying an olive branch.
What do you see?
I'm not looking out the window.
Everything is half finished.
Where is my seagull?
There.