Please do not ask me
one more time
if I have ‘found a man yet’.

I am visiting my hometown
in the spare bedroom
of my parents' house,

It is already self-reflexive
enough
as it is.

This town that reared me
in a tartan skirt and certain
forgettable fashion phases.

Felt my succession of
high school heartbreaks
and disappointments.

Still has my seventh form
painting project suspending
in the art block.

It has seen enough of me.
So let’s spare it a
conversation about why

I am not ready to have

debates over who I would
or wouldn't invite to a wedding
that does not exist.

Surely the coming back to
the warm roads of home,
Christmas ham still in the fridge,

brandies and dries, rounds
of darts and the dahlias
down the fenceline;

for now, in their familiarity
and fleeting moments of
familial togetherness

are sentiment enough.