2 poems by Cai Draper


22/4/20


one of the main problems with being alive


is that other people accept you more than yourself


this specific thing makes me go into the corner & bang my head


it’s okay Cai they say


but stop banging your head


& I say what you really mean when you say that


is you want me to bang my head even harder


if you didn’t then you wouldn’t have said the opposite


that’s when they look baffled & upset


& say I don’t understand come & sit with me


okay


then we hug but it doesn’t feel like a hug should


it feels like a very bad piece of wood forever


there’s a mosquito is rubbing itself into the living room window in the evening sun


mostly what I contemplate is where the next headswoon is coming from


& by that I don’t mean weed or wine


but perhaps the swan


bossing its way through Venice now the boats’ve gone



5/5/20


today’s the day I release the photos of my burial mound


made of disposable lighters pilfered from the artist nervous at the doors to the space


lighters


& a sheaf of part stuck collages


lighters


collages


& a Friday night of half cut colleagues whipping themselves into soft peaks


this morning I found a pair of Oreo doughnuts in a box with a see through top


perched on a gate post at the front of my house


I took them in immediately


it was too dangerous


__________


Cai Draper is a poet from South London living in Norwich, whose work appears in various magazines, anthologies and journals. He hosts an online reading series with Assembly House, and organises free poetry workshops at the Book Hive. @DraperCai