Evening run
The sun slumps behind the train tracks
The last kids in the park shriek
A crunchy carpet of conkers
Like black marbles in the growing dark
A man sits still on a bench, staring
At pavement cracks like ruptures
And life seeps out from the houses
Burnt dinner, incense, maternal rage.
The bag lady at the bus stop
Is still waiting.
Garden sitting
Lazy aeroplanes scraping through the sky
Breezes ruffling the curly willow
A bee cruising past your ear
And the smell of warm, dry skin.
A far off car alarm, a siren, a child’s cry
Muffled signs of distress.
Overlooked by chatty parakeets
And candyfloss clouds
‘Escaped from London zoo you know....
then multiplied like rabbits’
Somehow it still feels peaceful
In the garden.
Motherhood
My body is not mine
It is ruled by these creatures
My back is a climbing frame
Hair is for pulling
Breasts are for feeding, grabbing, biting,
Entirely unaware of their strength
I feel like standing up and roaring
King Kong breaking his restraints
flinging tiny people to the ground.
Suffocated, invaded,
I want to lie down, alone, in a dark room
At any given opportunity.