Home is a Bicycle
I, John, Papa, cling to the handles
like school kids.
The pedal wakes up before sunrise
to make chapatis,
and remember our birthdays.
The saddle sags under hospital bills,
the brakes operate on a bible
and sleeping pills.
The world is ending,
and my biggest fear
is losing home.
For you,
I would baptise myself,
‘handle, pedal, saddle’
For you,
I would make myself
a home.
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Poem (c) Victoria Kerubo
Image: ChatGPT remixed