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Poetry

Louise Wilford – 2 poems

Being a squid in the early hours

            

He’s there –  and I am suddenly aware,

as if a thread’s pulled taut in my chest

tugging me awake, of the dust-dark twilight

in which we sleep.  He grins and clambers 

            

in, dragging his dinosaur cushion with him

just in case, rolls over me to nestle in the valley

between our aging bodies, feet kicking down

beneath the sheet. He sleeps tight against 

            

my back, even though it’s spring-time hot.

He’ll turn in the early hours, resting his head

against my waist, his feet on Philip’s side

like a footrest. Then later he’ll turn back, cling 

            

like one of Harlow’s monkeys to its wire mother

to protect him from a dream. And in the early hours,

face inches from mine, he’ll grin and say:

‘Is it morning now?  Can we play at being a squid?’ 

            

He’s simply there – and the hours ahead unspool.

Awake in the dust-dark twilight, unable to sleep

with his hot young heart beside me, for the love

I feel for this child, who isn’t mine, who isn’t 

            

even my child’s child, I stare at the shadows.

Our great-nephew, three years old, has no inkling,

thank god, what his life brings to our old bones,

too late, the joy of the child we couldn’t have. 

            

All he knows is that, at dawn, his uncle

will pretend to be the tickling squid and I

will save him.  He’ll never know I never sleep

these nights, too stunned at how he saved us.

            

🍃

            

Wreckage

            

I burned the buildings down

blew up the bridges into town

and as I pushed you out the door

I felt a screw drop to the floor.

            

I lit the cannon’s fuse

even though I knew I’d lose

and when I pressed the starter switch

I could feel a rope unhitch. 

            

I screamed into your face

with no thought of time or place

and as I fumbled for the map

I could feel the last thread snap.

            

And I knew the waves would take me

spin me out and maybe break me

but I couldn’t stop the blast –

I just clung on to the mast

            

hoping I’d drift home at last.

            

🍃

            

Yorkshirewoman Louise Wilford has had over 100 poems and short stories published in magazines including Acumen, OWP, The Stinging Fly, Dreamcatcher and Agenda, and has won or been shortlisted for several competitions, most recently the £750 Arts Quarterly Prize 2020 and the 2019 MereFest Poetry Prize.  She is currently nearing the end of a Masters degree in Creative Writing with the Open University. She is a teacher, and is currently working on a fantasy novel for teenagers. She is a member of Kip Writers, a small group of novelists who began as colleagues at a private tutorial centre. You can find her blog at https://louviewsnewscues.blogspot.com/ and find her on Twitter @LouiseWilford.

By Heavenly Flower Publishing

Bindweed Magazine publishes two anthologies each year: Midsummer Madness and Winter Wonderland. Bindweed is run as a not for profit, labour of love endeavour by an author/poet couple: Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert. Bindweed can be found at https://bindweedmagazine.wordpress.com

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