Poetry

Off the hook

Distance vanishes and you’re beside me.

Your voice in my ears while I carry on

my daily routine; washing the dishes,

potting up plants. I can chat without an agenda,

without reason, and I can listen to everything on your mind.

Talking about the future, the past,

exact details of something we both geek out on.

The only thing that limits us is dodgy signal,

and to that we can only laugh and try again later.

Poetry

What lingers

There is comfort to the closeness. Strong scents jarring the nose but relaxing muscles in a way only home can. The earth is close. The weight above, to the sides and below. Inhale. Exhale. A constant movement against motionless time. Soft grumbling from deeper in, memories of warmth. There is nostalgia here, mixed with the damp soil.

Poetry

Between the hour and the minute

They tied themselves together, linking their hands with an elaborate wrap of solder. It was all for the dance; preparation for the endless twirling and spinning that was set to take place during the sixty seconds between midnight and one minute past. But that minute is never just a minute; to the right people, it is an eternity. They were the right people. They never came back.