Self Portrait of a Woman Resting on a Cliff

On waves of my
hair a house floats
where two foxes
visit at night
to drink rum
and feel safe

A slip a chance
could take them
upstairs to a thin
lad rolling
on the carpet,
wrestling with winter

Are you alright?
a fox asks
Boy: I swallowed fifty
         seeds for dinner
         A forest will grow
         from my mouth
         by morning and
         reach the girl from
         school to rain apples
         on her terrace
         Now I am only waiting

Outside an owl blinks
photographs through
the dark
He hands them to
a woman resting
on a cliff
She gives him
the warmth of
her hands