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Emma Elisabeth Wood
Poems
Nov 2018
Oma
Bounced
a mother figure
to two, a name
on a Christmas card
to four
when I realised
I was still a
child
and bitterness
wasn't an
option
I grew up
like a broken
nose
out of joint
Bounced
at the service
there are tears
beside me
I imagine a
body burning
and feel
warm
the lick of flames
on gray skin
my indifference
grows like I
imagine the
fire roaring
behind the curtain
heating up
Bounced
the house is
empty and
smells
unusual
like something has
been left in there
too long
they are not
there now but
it lingers
I tried to take
her dresses but
she was thinner
as a girl than
I am now
jealously
is a feeling
I'm familiar with
and it's easier
to understand
Bounced
we are waiting
for a buyer
and I imagine
how it feels
to have a piece
of your heart
trapped in bricks
and mortar
Bounced
one time,
I wanted to ask her
how it felt to
take notes of
the war
if she'd ever thought
of waving a white
flag and crumbling
drowning in the
rubble rain of
The Blitz
I wanted to hear
her say something
human
so I could
visualise and
see a bit of
her in myself
Bounced
I'm still caught up
on the autopsy
like a piece of
fatty tissue on
a scalpel
and my thoughts
are metal and
cold
the number of
zeroes on a
cheque
Bounced
Written by
Emma Elisabeth Wood
F/UK
(F/UK)
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