We are snuck in deep – that’s the hope.
The beds of exotics strive towards the sun.
Banana plants, orchids, the geraniums
that you didn’t know the word for –
and our grasping at language too.
This is where we are making our home
because the other one is being taken away –
not by those who come here,
but by those who insist on the differences,
who think they have a monopoly.
Maybe I am too dull to understand,
but I think I know what it will feel like
when the cases are unpacked
when we’ll be off to the shops
to buy milk and bread and cheese,
when the pot plants are out on the balcony.