“Sleepy gas”
the pungent scent
of childhood candy-floss
air and sheets
of paper from the drawer in the bedroom
my first wax crayons bark
rubbings tree hugs
then a little later water-colours
in a rectangular tin of rainbow with indigo
and a pallet lid that said
my name back then holes
in my tights growing
from teddy-bear rolls on
stubby charred grass in summer
oily rumbles intermittent
the thrashing tail of the stingray you
caught by mistake which grazed
my arm the question

What are you doing here in the dark

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