the table is choked with slime
and pipe-cleaners bent into cherries
and left-handed scissors
waiting for their turn

Levi says pillowcases live in the sky
not the proper sky
the one above the clouds
where lost things go

it is the last option
the deep breath arriving
after the others have left
it is doggy-paddling
it is crows remembering faces
and coming back anyway

it is managing to stop Rosie
climbing out of windows
it is rummaging through charity shops
finding whole lives on a shelf
for fifty pence

the river running underneath
saying
connect
believe
keep going