“hotel,” new poetry by jesslyn delia smith

why-it-show-case-03

if i sift with my fingers
through fabrics, not
look away, be
domestic

lift and carry the 
weight of old skin
before it can rise 
from the floorboards

arrive in one piece
and then
stay

grow a garden to nowhere at all

beneath a white flame
with my mother,
her mother,

dig for
reflections
we’ve buried
for years in the sand

what’s left is a body,
skin tethered to bones,

grown but from
nothing
at all:

the

small of
my back
just a space
for your hand
to announce
when it wants to be heard

these words by jesslyn delia smith were inspired by the art of Pasha Bumazhniy

Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour wordandcolour.com

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