after Kait Quinn
My marbles, my mind, my temper
when I was just five and the world
kept turning in spite of my stubborn
hands and feet trying to scale the stars.
Breadcrumbs and balls of string;
every attempt to find my way
back home again; to savour the word again
as it slips and falls like me
on ice skates – any sense of integrity,
fear rippling through tight, ripped jeans,
cold breath on the wind and you,
skating out into the far distance
away from me. I lost our ten year
anniversary, but I didn’t regret it.
All the things we called ours too
except the cat which purrs my name.
The name I’ve forgotten too often,
the one which has lingered by railways,
submerged itself, eyes, nose, mouth
into the bath. The one I sometimes wish
could vanish so I no longer know
the sound of it when it passes someone’s lips.
But amongst the marbles and madness,
the five year old with a heart that aches,
I found it. The name I’ll write
poems about until it is lit wild and loved
with Endymion in the stars.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020
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