I am my loose steps,
my fly-by-night boards;
brambles sprawled upon a chair;
missing banisters;
the footprints of foxes;
cupboards of workaday and best china;
records; tins of polish, paraffin.
I am folding inwards,
till my roof collapses,
till mortar falls from brick
and plants seal me
in this homeless home,
this seed case.
Here’s the fire I set for warmth,
or to end, to still
the talk of rodents,
the tongues of curtains.
***This poem has just been published in isssue 7 of Swamp.
*** And here are the latest additions to my family:
"I am my loose steps...brambles sprawled upon a chair..missing banisters..I am folding inwards..and plants seal me..in..this seed case..the tongues of curtains."..In subject, imagery, tone, style and use of language, this is a stunning poem, a real gem. Thankye for sharing your poetry Sian. Post more!
ReplyDelete~ Strider
Kind comments, Strider. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteS x