Day Seventy-five

I'm back!

It's been an amazingly busy couple of weeks and poetry has had to take a back seat. I've not enjoyed not writing. It's been awful having lines and fragments of phrases launch themselves into my mind and not be able to do anything about it. I suppose I should have been taking notes; or freewriting; or at least writing something down, but my head space being in moving house mode has been in another world. So there you go - my excuse!

On the night we actually moved in to our new house. I won't say home because at that point it didn't feel like one. Both Matt and I had a similar feeling and this poem is an attempt to catch it.


Moving on

Arriving alive in that space
between worlds. Primordial,
primitive cave.

Such was that place - that gap
between lines
laid bare
on a big empty page.

It was cold - crammed
into that airless hole. So we lit
a fear-melting fire.

And the blackness outside
felt further away.

And the warmth in our bones held it at bay.