Words often just go with each other irrespective of what I want them to do. Here’s an example.
Go ahead, go onto something new.
Packing toys and tools and terrible things
Into thin grey plastic bags.
Throwing them into the sea of bins
On the other side of the world.
2
A lifetime moved into its latter half.
Ready to be emptied on Tuesday.
On to something else.
Something older.
3
The things that made up the former half
Are distracting from the new.
Having crazed the paving to the revelation
That’s not turned epiphany just stopped
They are planted to the bottom
Of the supermarket liners
Onto something new
Something familiar
4
Which clothes to keep to pack away?
The jacket did she came home in?
The t-shirt from the show we saw?
Money for shipping is not in sight today
But the plane is taking off one-way
And the family that wasn’t still is not.
5
Onto somewhere colder
Something jollier
Throw away everything, all of it
There’s always something under the skin
That will travel, unable to sleep
Like a child in economy trying to play
For attention across the aisle
Until their mother holds them tight.
Onto somewhere lonely
Somewhere welcoming
