Forest Drama and Performance Workshop

The sweetest Dream

I had a home,
A mother of milk
and honey
Sweeping pretty through
The house,
Of breasts and
Softscented hair
Of smashed bottles
and fear
All over the kitchen
floor.

And her pretty was
cleaned so hard
That when she was
gone
The only echo
Left to bounce around
The house
Was in the smell of
My hair my Skin
The pain of my father.

Then, again,
I had a home.
A man of
Sandalwooded beard
and loving obsession,
Of soft madness
constantly brewing
tea and smile
Of desperate need
And slow decay.

Ane when he
Clawed his way out of
A morphine-enduced
Sleep
for the last time to
Look at me
And ask me to tell
the angels to leave
Him alone,
the only echo left
To bounce around
My life
was the humour in my
subtext,
The sad warm smile
In my chest,
The hole inside me,
The unreasonable
expectation
Of love.



Laura marlow.