Pale Predators/New Poem (Rough First Draft)

Pale Predators

I’d quite like to stand

under this shower all day,

savouring the way the water

taps against my eyelids

like fingers of a tiny child

learning how to count.

 

I call myself wise when I  

say ‘that’s enough now,

come on, get dry, moisturise.’

 

I’m afraid of lots of things

that the day tips out. Where

the next conversation is going

to come from is one of them.

 

I have names of people

I’d like to meet scribbled

on the back of my hand in biro.

 

Instead of friend requesting them,

I wash my tendons clean, slip out

of the house, move through the trees.

 

I’m in the mood to get lost.

 

My strength today is animal like

and hot. I realise I’ve never

been fitter. I can outrun the sun.

 

I like to hold my wrist after

sprinting through the forest.

I like to feel how strong my pulse is.

 

When I think my twenties have

exploded, I like bringing myself

back to now. I have seen worse.

I have been worse.

 

I have been pinned to the floor

by my own shadow.

 

But this isn’t an adorable battle,

one you can mash up with

fancy lettering and re-blog

on Tumblr.

 

This is full on fights with pale

predators who stalk the space

behind my eyes.

 

When I tell you the colour

of my dreams, there is a wonderful

loophole in my conflict, and know

I am being sincere.

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