work -> home   she says the words but forgets what they mean stop looking at me please these mice that squeal inside the cracks, these mice like spinach leaves wilting in the heat, like drowned teabags with misshapen strings       on a thirtieth-floor commission-flat balcony an olive tree outgrows its fourth pot this month and in the gravel the glass of a broken bottle shines like hematite under the moon outside an empty pub where a grandfather eats his moustache       a woman sleeps in your bed, her shoulderblade is an overcast sky, her hair…