I’m pulled up and out to the noise
by the fist of my chest,
bed clothes like tangled sculptures
in wet cement,
I flick my ankle like a cat’s tail
in the navy room and sigh
at the two inches of place
that separate me from you;
your back fired iron plate,
your flank the primary school heater
I used to dare to grip
with little kiddie fingers that burned a seashell pink.
You’ve always thrown out heat
no matter what season,
position or pattern we sleep in,
and sensing me now your face
rises like moon over countryside,
blind and made fearful by dream,
with the pinched look of a baby abandoned,
reproachful and impatient for answers.
“It’s just the boiler” I whisper,
words unlikely you’ll remember.
This is so beautiful and intimate. I love it.
Thank you polly, I’m glad you like it
Shared. Hope that’s ok
Of course! Thank you, please share the love. Your byline says Celtic fringes, where are you from if you’ll pardon the question? I’m from Cornwall
Me too, Mabe, near Falmouth. But I have lived in Wales for the last 16 years and one branch of the my family hail from Cymru. Where are you from?
I’m from Falmouth! I love it there. Kimberly Park road, then up near The Boathouse pub, then up near the fire station. My family moved away from there a couple of years ago but a lot of my good friends are still in Cornwall. I also lived in Penryn recently for a year. My girlfriend (whom the above poem is about) is currently going to university in Cardiff, so I’ve just started crossing the border into Wales more often. Small world!
Holy hell, small world indeed! Falmouth is pretty much the best place in the world. I went to Cardiff Uni too…but many moons ago, in the actual last century in fact. It was great, I love Cardiff- I’m sure you and your girlfriend will too. Then back to Kernow for my Postgrad at the now beyond recognition Tremough campus. I’m now a sort of Welsh/Cornish hybrid with a foot in both lands and Welsh kids.
Cracking poems, you are lucky.
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