Moving (on)

Nothing fits in my new house 

Everything was custom made for the old space

The table, the couch, the bed

The curtains and the lamp shade

All of them scream salvation

But I insist on remixing them, in the new place

It's not too bad actually. I repainted the ugly bits

Changed the sequence and the mood

Threw in a little gypsy on the librarian

And then I was quite proud

Of refitting my dreams to this new present

I don't have to start over, entirely. 

I could at least build on my mistakes? 

(That asymmetric flower vase?)

But then there comes a thirsty night

And the walk from the bed to the fridge

Brings about this traumatic collision 

Of a knee and a table from the past..

Blue-green bruises, beckon more than chilled water,

Ice packs, in the middle of the night

That one moment is enough for a complete meltdown.