Walkabout In A Psyche Poem by Sheena Blackhall

There are days I want to swop myself for another version
I'd like to change my world view,
The bed I sleep in, even the food on my plate
I'd like to peel myself like a black banana
And change into a lychee,
Luscious and lascivious

I could be a stone in a Zen garden
No need for haircuts, podiatry, crowds of people
No digestive system, weight issues, no diabetes

I'm weary of juggling days like a clumsy clown
I'd swop long dinners for dynamic fields of roses
I'd body-swerve mini-dramas for a dark loch
I want to be a diamond, frosted and mute
I want every day to be Sunday, that slumps like a tired sofa
I want to diminish the seepage of tears from grief
I want to be a string of sausages, tormenting sausage dogs

I could be ten pips in an apple, and mother orchards