Running Away

I crossed my hometown out with a red felt tip

I ran my fingers round the edge of the new

and faintly marked lines of another equipped

to make a fresh impression. Reality grew

on the map. The country smelt of oranges

I pushed the door. The air revived my smile.

The sea, the salt on my tongue, the sunlit changes

All lit up the room. I loved to wake as a child

in a new bed, not mine. I felt away and out

of my skin. But home pulled me. As a coil

I stretched as far as I could, returning with a shout

more times than I could bear, the new fruit spoiled.

The escape became my old room. Disappointment stale,

I swallowed it, slunk in my shell on the bed, a snail.