Someone’s roof over our heads
but always our bellies and souls full
These hot sleepless nights take me back
to old stories blurred to one

I’d rub my mum’s belly like a lamp
and pregnant with child as she was
she’d spin tales of genies and of life
and I’d drift off in wonder

I only ever wanted to be a brother
and this woman who gave me life
and such wonderment and then even that purpose
…did I discard her having had my fill?

When did I become such a cruel son?