There is no space here for anyone else

There is no space here for anyone else,

the strip light, the white walls,

footsteps in the corridor outside,

trolleys, teacups, ticking clocks

dissolve,

only the two of them exist.

Within their sanctuary

breath slows

unravelling the final threads,

a hand slips from the sheet,

and she is there alone

with legs so numb

she cannot stand, but sits

her breath the only sound.

Jenna Plewes

Silence

You chose silence, did not speak of the cells that circled your body

invading organs as an army might take over a city.

You chose silence as if you knew that time was short

and its minutes too easily drowned by tears.

You chose silence, to avoid the painful subjects that might rise

like bile, till all memories taste of its bitterness.

You chose silence in this wasteland so that you could also choose

which of its stones to lift and look at, hold in your mouth.

You chose silence to shield your children from pain,

as if that cup were not already full, and running over.

You chose silence, and all the bright leaves of conversation

that blew across our speech withered, and fell unsaid.

Words disappeared before the wide maw of your

approaching death, waiting for the next, last, silence.

Penelope Hewlett

Premonition

I saw you, standing in May sunshine,

head bowed in contemplation of

the silent lawnmower at your feet,

breathing the slight puffs of an old man

whose strength has run like sand into the soil,

hands on hips over a cloud-grey sweater.

Children’s voices came from the garden

where they were playing on the grass

without a care. And the tarmac ran away

from your feet into the shadows underneath the wall.

I see you still, captured in that moment

when I stood still, when I heard the shadows

speak with heavy certainty:

you won’t be here in a few month’s time.

Remember this, the sun, the stance,

in its finality. You won’t be here again

beneath the blue sky, hearing the children

squabble in the garden, breathing

the light air.

Penny Hewlett