For Appa’s birthday,
I meant to send him a postcard
showing him my room,
in all its sunlit glory.
Behind it, I scribbled
the only line I’ve typed out in a Word document
for the London Piece I’m trying
I moved to London last September. I walked into my room with three suitcases, a litre of milk, one loaf of bread, and a box of six broken eggs.
It’s a nice room, nice-ish at least (?)
but the postcard,
drawn on hot-pressed watercolour paper
with a 0.1 Derwent Graphik Line Maker
is black and white,
London, like the cracked eggs,
and my excitement
the soggy cardboard box
sitting in a pool of egg whites
I didn’t notice until morning.