Poetry

Elastagirl

In the spaces of my sockets (shoulder

sockets, that is, not eye)

the dust of all the things I’ve reached for

collects; the joints are loath to return

to face the withered evidence of so many bursts of hope.

No, they prefer to float away, striving for that bit of extra stretch

that will let me grasp those

teasing, nearly there, fluttering dreams.

I wouldn’t mind, but the sinew is wearing thin

and I need my arms to work properly

to embrace those bubbly moments of now.

Poetry

Homemaker

I uncurl my toes from the carpet.

My stomach has a weight in it, cold

that rises to my throat.

It’s been there since this morning, after

I watched you hurry for the bus,

a smile lingering on your lips as I waved.

 

It only feels like home when you’re here.

When you’re not,

it’s just a place where I spend my time

running through the routines of life

without feeling I’m living any of it.

 

Home is where we will both be

in the future.

It’s hard not to jump forwards,

but rushing will only crumble

the blocks we’ve been trying to maintain for everyone else.

I know, once they’re solid,

we can claim our own, and make our own.

Our house, our homely home.

Poetry

A wish

A wish is all I need

said the star to the girl.

A wish in your heart to fill

the expanding void. Stitch

it shut so that you, yes:

you in the sheet who

becomes the sheet when legs

appear around you,

folding you up into a neat

package presented with glitter

and string. You can’t disappear,

fade out from their faces.

You can remain, bold,

outlined and real.

A wish is all I have

said the girl to the star.

A wish in my heart, small

but waiting to expand.