Pencil

I want you to help me but you refuse lying there sharply accusative and pointing towards the window you would rather be anywhere but here ‘But I have paper,’ I say I show you a neat pile of A4 playing on the fact that you are distantly related but you are dreaming of a time when you stood in the forest with the wind in your leaves listening to the sap rising I say: ‘We can write about that if you want.’