look at us bored by the pool
we’re thinking we’re in a movie
got our hair ties matching
the pastel spandex over
the soft of our bodies
got us flexin’
a starfish, a seal
look at us water queens
After the Party
Poems are the same as going home.
They always start on a train at the very edge
of navy blue afternoon, the almost glow of street
lamps and I am only just awake--all loose limbs
and missing socks. Sat in suspended time travel,
inevitable thoughts, daylight savings of everything
but the mind. And then the part where the body
has to move, the kind of walk that only recognizes
the trail of a stove’s smoke rings, a meal and bedtime--
foggy procedures of time erasure, a warm shower’s
ability to dissolve. You see all I ever wanted
was to come home sure of the same things as when
I left, to nap in the comfort of horoscopes.
Francisca has just recently graduated and is moving from Lisbon to London come September in order to pursue a masters in Creative & Life Writing. You can find her on instagram @ccisca.