Thursday - Poem by MARINA GIPPS
Find myself stroking
towards a clean feeling.
Towards the cold womb of the vantage corner,
not so far away…
Staring with delight.
Reaching my naked morning arm
up against the cold white wall
that feels grey on my shoulder
as if already curled up.
My body: the slow letter “N”
becoming a tense “X”.
Sitting in my corner, a vision registered:
I was the one to make all walls meet.
I was the eternal homebuilder,
responsible for the lengthening of sky,
the inconsistancy of shadows.
Looking upside down
to outside my window,
the people were grey and faceless
in this nameless unknowing.
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