In the Longitudinal Dark
Like Russian dolls of moss and pine, the garden flourishes, boundless,
endless. Trails of fireflies shoulder through a sea of undulating grass,
blue-green algae coloured and bathed in candlelight yellow. There is danger
here. All bad things come out of the head. One-horned beasts in the
longitudinal dark, beneath the bridge
between cerebral hemispheres. I search for you in the firefly light, through
the algal sea, across barren wastes of vermilion sand, between bars of
blackened iron and in the streets of the home that isn’t my home. I rip out the
knotted sinew of my hands, to strangle any throat that isn’t yours. When I find
you, you throw crumbs at my feet and let the rats devour me.
Centrifugal
Whether crouched among pigeons in a sun-filled square or shivering
beneath an umbrella in the pouring rain with grit in our shoes, I am most happy
when by your side. Together we watched phantom hounds dash in circles around a
fog-bound lighthouse and our feet sank into the ooze of oil-soaked sand as we
hunted for rock pools, but the only pools we found darling were made of vomit
as we danced our way arm in arm back to the station after we were served chips
with blue-flecked cheddar and the sea air made you crave cigarettes. I watched
your cheeks hollow over the green straw as we sucked on blackcurrant juice, and
held steaming mugs of malted drinks against our mouths, and reached across red
gingham to touch hands in a 1950’s drug store café. We sipped Malibu and coke
to the tune of strummed guitars, and we devoured fajitas, curries, steak and
shakes, cocooned in red blankets beneath a huge oak whose branches shed their
dead into our cocktails to mix with the mint leaves in the yellow lantern
light. We skipped stones on a pebbled beach, and I watched your thin arms whip
through the salt breeze. I kissed the nape of your tousled head where I slept
so peacefully, and held your warmth against me.
Helen Crawford
is a twenty four years English poetess. She is an MA student at the University of Nottingham.
She has been a writer in whole life and has been particularly drawn to writing
prose poems as I find they just fit my.
