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when my father
walked out of the house
and into his head
we could hear the door slam shut

we did not see him again
but there would be
the occasional note
reminding us that people
who take long holidays
cannot be trusted

the colours changed
a clear blue made its way onto the walls
and our toenails acquired
a distinctly green undertone

we got to see birds in a different way
although we forgot
their names
we collected the snails that touched us most
and piled them up on the kitchen table
we straightened our shoulders
and discovered our necks

then we were told to climb the mountain
that had appeared next to our house
and so we did one tuesday morning
as we got higher the wind peeled off our clothes
and our skins learned a new language
they became rather fluent

back home we got rid of the books
and sat on a rug listening
to the world knocking patiently on our door

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