while i stood on moroccan rooftops / shaftesbury ave is too pretty a street to leave my insides on anyway / 7-eleven / this, too, is eulogy / split / the sun spends hours trying to rise / menu
while i stood on moroccan rooftops
oh my oh my oh my
tonight we are standing
on the top of houses
and across from us
the man bows to a god
i do not know
and across from us
the men barbecue
the women laugh
and down in the streets
the children play
with marbles
the boys with dolls
the girls at hide & seek
thinking they cannot be found
behind blue doors
thinking they cannot be found
watching mothers cover
their bodies
thinking they cannot be found
i want to be found
i want to only find
i am here on the roof
of a home that isn’t mine
i am here in a place
that i have never before
called home
and yet i feel more at home
then i ever did under
my parents roof

shaftesbury ave is too pretty a street to leave my insides on anyway
you hear thunder and you run
the bus comes early and you run
and your body folds and unfolds
over and over again
folds over in the satchmo carpark
like you never have before
like knees to gravel
a worship to sadness like no other
run so hard you heave
almost hurl up your insides
on birkett street or just before
but you manage to leave only salt there instead
almost call but don’t
almost do a lot of things but don’t
instead curl up in pink sheets
forget dinner
sink to a sad slumber
wake at quarter to midnight
stomach complaining but you don’t give in
fall back to sleep
another big nine
and then you run
and there’s no need for thunder
or the bus
because you’ve been sleeping with
the sadness under your bed for months now
because there is no ‘under the bed’
and it only just occurred to you
to get a bedframe
it only just occurred to you
that home hasn’t quite been home
and the discovery of shelter
melts into the fairy lights around your window
and the house has always been too hot
and the dog never settled
and there is every single reason
to justify why
all you’ve wanted to do is run
7-eleven
the 7-eleven is quiet, empty
we scour it for snacks
searching for the ache to our crave
won’t admit we’ll never find it here
in these aisles that you can see over
so it will never feel like a grocery store
instead we fill the void with sausage rolls
and $2 coffee
(which actually doesn’t taste too bad)
clamber back into car seats
that have held us so long
they could mistaken as home
could be
they aren’t though
we mistake each other for that
fold bodies into bodies
and pretend we know the difference between limbs
pretend it matters to know the difference
but know that at the root of this
of this almost chance encounter
at the root of it
we are only what we mean to one another
and it’s not much
it’s really not all that much
we just wanted to find warmth
wanted to bathe in a heat that wasn’t sunlight
under a light that was only ours
and wax poetic about it after
we’ll pull our shedded clothing back to our skin
sip cold coffee
pretending we don’t mind
and still try to find small talk here
the tiniest of it as well
so tiny I decide not to find it for the most part
let you fill the gaps we couldn’t together
oh it’s such a broken encounter
and a funny one that clings to me
I memorise the first three letters of your number plate
look again and again in each carpark afterwards
leftovers I called it
carrying takeaway containers of everyone I’ve held
my arms are so heavy
the 7-eleven has never been more silent

this, too, is eulogy
and still we raise our phones
even if the day was riddled with grief
this must be captured
this has to be held in more than just my hands
you
too
should hold it
you
too
should get to see this beautiful thing
how this
too
is worship
how it rests in my fingertips
just people holding bodies in a church
i wonder when the body i hold will be mine
when will the house i continue to build
be one all my furniture fits into
how this too can be eulogy
because by pure definition it is simply this:
to raise others on high
and if that is truth
then every single day i stretch my voice to eulogy
still we
cry
and ache
and laugh
big belly laughter that reaches to your toes
and still we dance
way into the night
way into the morning
as if to say if we stop moving the sun will not rise
and still we fuck and pay the rent
and forget to pay our phone bills
and cry
and wretch
and scream
because what is worship without screaming?
what is worship without love so fierce it almost breaks you?
what is worship without love so fierce it pulls back together every single time?
how easily we knit back together
we have only been stretching
but look how crammed we are
in every single space
elbow to elbow
how kind to know this many people
to have them all in the same place
how that too is eulogy
side by side
where i don’t have to feel my body
how i am between enough bodies to not need
not only yours but also my own
how you question whether you could be saved
even on the night you believe you don’t need to be
but who knows you better than these strangers
with their free vessels of
sweat
and pulse
and kind
who knows you better than the night
that sticks to your throat
only to remind you when you awake tomorrow
that it was there
and who here needs to know of your grief
and your regret
a walk to the train station gone way wrong
look
look
the rave has saved you
yet again
your sweat has caught you
yet again
your lover knows you
yet again
our phones are all lifted to the sky
yet
again

split
the streets smell like holy water
and we all know i spend a lot of time
thinking about worship
thinking about g - d
thinking about the linoleum
and the stone
and the stained glass
the shoreline doesn’t though
it’s salty
but also faintly like rotting egg
and i’m in the background of a lot of people’s pictures
and i suppose they’re in mine
but i can’t help but wonder what i look like
or if it matters
the souvenir shops sell lavender
and the streets do too
and it’s in the sky
and i want it in my hair
in my body
in my skin
they also sell wind up music boxes
and i thought i was done with g - - - f
but we all know four months isn’t that long
if we’re counting
and most people are
and it’s funny because it’s not sad
like i’m not bawling my eyes out next to all the people buying magnets
it just sits in your chest in that way it does
and i suppose that’s just it
but i can’t help but wonder what i look like
or if it matters
the streets smell like holy water
and the hat he wore while we were here is right there
and g - d titters from a clear sky
and it’s warm
it’s still so warm
i stand on the cusp of a laneway and split fast food
there’s a man playing the violin
and we all know i’m a sucker for strings
for the sea
for the sunset that’s wrapping itself into my own palms
she hands me the veggie burger
my smile settles into my cheeks
& the shoreline is
lavender
and peach
the sun spends hours trying to rise
after Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib
everyone keeps going on and on about this big world we are in / but really it is so small / & he says my name after that / & it falls off his tongue like silk / & i want to thank him for holding it so safely / and i want to tell him that in another universe / where maybe he doesn’t move from croatia to australia in ‘97 / where the summers don’t stick his back door closed / where time doesn’t pass so damn quickly / while the world changes / & our mother’s hairs go grey / in that other universe / where we all live in Shangri-La / and i don’t mean the luxury hotel chain / in that other universe / i want to tell him that i think my dad would be a man like him / kind and blood no longer heavy with ethanol / kind and no longer heavy with grief / but i don’t say anything / & he points to a tree in the shadows of dark / & tells me in ‘97 i could have slept there / & not a soul would have bothered me / & i wonder what he’s thinking / picking up a kid like me this late / because i feel like a kid / in the front seat of this car / that feels hollow / or makes me feel hollow / while headlights skip beats / & i only see half of the streets / & i will stumble to my front door / while he checks i get in safe / even though i know he doesn’t have to / even though we both know he doesn’t have to / but if he doesn’t / who will / because it’s late / & the front light wasn’t left on / because i forgot / so as i fumble for keys / i think / it’s been a long time since someone checked / i think / it’s been a long time since i’ve had to tell someone i’ll be home late / texted my mama to tell her my bed will be empty for a while longer than usual / & so i rush back to the hollow car / & i say thank you / again and soft / again and kind / again / & i feel the ethanol in my own blood / & i say / sorry / again and soft / again and kind / again / sorry / sorry i didn’t want to be this / sorry i’m scared / sorry i always knew i would turn out like him / because i am / the most like him / even in the alternate universe / i still take my coffee black there / i still sometimes feel like i’m the DOA that ruined everyone’s night there / because that’s what he’s always been for us / & i am back at the window of the hollow car now / & the man smiles gently / so small / he says again / & i know he’s right / but i can’t help but think that / here / in the dim light of almost dawn / because it’s gotten that late now / or early i suppose / here / i have never felt so far from every body who knows me / but instead i say / you know when you said that you moved here / for a moment i thought that here wasn’t this place / but the place i have been looking for / & that you somehow managed to find
