Termites eat my sleep,
devour my dreams,
chew through my stability,
nibble away the foundations
of my future.
At night I hear them.
Crick, crick. So soft
it could be the winding tick
of my thoughts.
Termites eat my sleep,
devour my dreams,
chew through my stability,
nibble away the foundations
of my future.
At night I hear them.
Crick, crick. So soft
it could be the winding tick
of my thoughts.
Australian writer, environmental activist, hang-gliding assistant & former sailor, journalist & clown. Poetry collection available now. www.emmabriggs.net