Tice Cin
and I know
my first thought is to ask where he goes to do his hair the secret green fallow
in the same place still backed up I wait outside and there a first time with each guest
in my life I ask who it can be now to ask him or ask him who what where how
does he always know when there is a question between I ask why he kept a
look going where you going and I know why grass and iron is flushed with
a poem about London Fields and the sun is a bus teenagers jump on for free
no funds needed for where we’re going I ask for more to see if he tells me its pockets
pull these ones out put this hand here with mine or even stand here and hold my motive
his hand with magi smuggled in to the picnic under the eye of god
because on my collarbone is a landing spot can I tap and tap as he goes reading as I
listen as he conducts from his one step ahead and I know why here is better than there
it is wind in a bottle we get to keep without delivering the message two ticks can I
ask should I anymore or I’ll hold whatever you need me to hold is now a checkpoint to touch when I
do not hear sense nor reason and I needless tend to ask for less motorway breeze instead
TICE CIN is an interdisciplinary artist from North London. A recipient of a London Writers Award for Literary Fiction, Cin’s debut novel Keeping the House is out with And Other Stories.