If I was my mother,
and you were a horse,
I would not wrap the lead
into my fist
as we walk the track
with their ruined nissan huts
patch up by ivy,
so we can’t see through
the hollow sockets
of broken windows
to the emptiness inside,
always emptiness inside,
and always me with a fist
of lead
to draw you closer
to heel
in case the emptiness
is not what it seems.
Spent an evening smashing holes
in the walls you’d fixed,
and smoothed with filler.
Waited for the dawn to discover
the bones of this house
now naked of plaster.
Wondered if I looked as broken,
beneath.
If I would catch light
just as quickly.
With a smile steeped in pomegranate wine
you laughed,
tipped your head back,
closed your eyes against the sun
painted in place
in a sky that never greyed,
unlike me
who seemed to leech all colour
from our Elysium,
so perfect in the way it held you,
in the way it caught me
like a trap.
Tomorrow has taken to pressing up against the windows,
fingers splayed on the glazing,
eyes big like old iron lamps
swinging in the wind
this way, then that.
Where can you hide
in this glass house of yours,
with the statues you carved
out of all the words swallowed instead of spoken
and choked up behind closed doors,
with tomorrow still pressed up against the windows.
And what do you say
to the policeman with the kind eyes
who takes a statement,
writes down eyes like old iron lamps,
and promises that they will look into it
while tomorrow is still pressed up against the windows.
Tonight we’re being asked to think about the days of the week with our poems, and I’ve wandered a little off topic with mine by focusing in on the idea of tomorrow.
While you’re here, I just thought I’d mention that my poetry collection ‘It’s All In The Blood’ is available to buy through Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com. It’s a self-published venture and a project that I’m incredibly proud of. I owe a huge amount of thanks to all of the dVerse Poets who have read and commented on my blog over the last couple of years for encouraging me in my writing, and helping me develop my poetic skills to the point where I could create a collection like this. Taking part in the dVerse prompts has become one of my favourite parts of the week and I’ve met some truly wonderful people. Thank you for everything.
I felt the day yawn this evening. Stretch itself a little further, a little longer. Shoulder up against the dusk and edge another moment of space for itself, before slipping back beneath the blankets of shadow beyond the train station.
I tell myself it was waiting for me. Finally found a coat warm enough to ward off Winter’s frosty demeanour. Scuffed a booted foot against the concrete pavement, shimmered in the puddles with each sure, step.
Can’t be sure if I’ll see the same tomorrow. Crack open the office doors and find night too close for comfort, the space between bare branches weighed out in shadows. Wonder why she left so soon, if she ever turned up the first time.
Spring slips in shyly,
sets down roots slowly, with care,
when you’re not looking.
Carol J Forrester 
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