The Wouldbegoods

by Charlotte Geater

We’ll make ginger snaps wrapped
in ribbons, bake trays of mudcake
spilling into crevices in the oven
mix the icing with too much sugar
and too many sprinkles
not enough chocolate or lashings
of water; lick it from our hands
and stickily push our hair
from our faces. We’ll finish up
and leave bowls unwashed
on the draining board, trays of sweets
and cakes and darling things sunning
on the windowsill. There are tattered
dresses in my wardrobe

and we’ll sew them into duvet-covers
on which we’ll draw maps in eyeliner
pencils and face-powder, body-glitter
rolled across to mark the seven seas,
the ever-collapsing ocean.

We’ll hide under the world
and turn off the lights, even the lights
flickering inside the globe that we’ll make
from a bedside lamp, blue paint,
the shade we’ll find in a corner
of the attic. I think that we should recite
the names of every country until it all goes green
around us; you start with Abkhazia and I’ll
draw the atlas from under my pillow, softly
turn the page with another lick
and say even softer, I think, that one day
we’ll end it all in Kuwait, Kuwait,
the kingdom near the sea.