Laura Hocking
Schrödinger’s Sparrow
backseat, o i like the backseatso keep on driving away from the sun.taxi, o i’ll call you my hired handbut don’t mind the meter till we pull in.and i’m cold as obsidian arrowheads and i’m tired like a hingeand the night’s undeniable nowand there are people out in it in terrible jeopardyor wadded and warm in domestic dreamsand they sleep – and they sleep – as one hand on the wheel, you are turning the light on for me.oysters don’t grow on trees:it’s a fact that means nothing, or next to nothing to me.but down in the cloisters, i heard that you’d seensomeone poisoning pigeons with oysters and throwing their bones to the sea.and i feel that i’m being deceived!and i’m laid bare as a nail,and i am desperately dragging my heels;but the contract’s a killer, it’s making my Letras de cancionesedges unclearand each time that we swerve – well it’s my nerves under your wheels.so, backeat. yeah, i like that backseatand you like driving, so i guess we’ll be bonnie & clyde for now.o but i panic, when i’m left to my own divising,i fear that my mind is unkindand my body is slowing you down.and my heart’s an obsidian elephant andcreaks like a hingeand i am broad as a morning in spring.i was born in an Anderson shelter on thefirst full moonand i am tight as a telephone’s ring.i am BRIGHT like shrödinger’s sparrow and i ampoor as a nailand i’m desperately dragging my heels.and i try –and i try – and i try –but if ever i drive,well you’d better watch out for the wheels.(i am cold as obsidian arrowheads andtired like a hinge and the night’s undeniable nowand there are people out in it in terrible jeopardyor wadded and warm in domestic dreamsand they sleep –and they sleep –and they sleep – as one hand on the wheel, you areturning a light on for me.
From Letras Mania