Pale Predators/New Poem (Rough First Draft)
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
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.