House of straw

The week after I feel happy and secure

My dog is hurt
I come to the end of my credit card
I need to stop raising pigs
The first frost strikes right as the tomatoes are about to blush
My workload is increased at work
With plenty of commendations to the people whose work I'm covering
But with the warning that everyone will be watching me
And then, suddenly, knowing my career might be over
Because of a quirk in my brain.
My lover was too busy to talk to me
As is my friend.

I spend the day in bed
Crying
Reminding myself I never should have felt safe
And lamenting the heady taste of things having been ok

Someone makes time for a call. An hour or two.
Somehow there's nothing to say.

Husbandry

Not with the rod

But the way a bird builds a nest
Secure
Creatively brilliant
So that everyone
Wants to come live there

This is how I aspire

Not with the rod

But with duck confit wrapped around the pill
With time, and tasty-smelling treats in the trailer
With slow movements, a step and a breath at a time
With more toys and friends inside the fence than out
With a heated pillow in my favoured spot

I care for them
As I wish to care for myself
My own animal

Not with the rod

With my own nest
Coating my own pills with sugar
Trying for time, and tempting myself with treats
Scattering places to breathe at every turn
Full of friends and toys
And a heating pad in bed

Not with the rod

I husband myself with softness
With a beautiful and creative nest
And with as much security as anyone can offer themselves