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Poetry

Three poems

Maya Hough

Three poems from Maya Hough’s dissertation collection, ‘i’m going to miss this’.

 

artifact

 

made by hand,

my dad’s work stained with

mum’s bad news.

 

we eat here,

we cry here, we laugh,

we tell stories.

 

is a table

valuable? something to keep when

everything must go?

 

marked with memory

and burns from hot plates,

spilt cups, hands.

 

is a table

important? it’s so hard to

imagine eating elsewhere.

 

liminal tongue

 

more than ever

I can taste this

nowhere space

 

the cusp of

your lips

the shared spit

that says

                 I’ll see you soon

 

a coach fare to London

finds the boxed cat prowling

Victoria, still unsure

of its heartbeat.

 

exhale

 

I feel this place

in my lungs

 

to romanticise its loss

is to mourn my breath

 

 

***

 

 

my feet are wet

coughed liquid from chest

 

acknowledge the irony

of grounding myself in the puddle

 

 

***

 

 

the cherry tree must go

and the pigeons’ nest

 

the building is uprooted

reduced to simple twigs and spit

 

 

***

 

 

one day I’ll barely

remember these roads

 

but leaving now

is wishing for air

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