A poem about... well... y'know...

So this is the first poem I ever wrote! I still wasn't quite sure what I was doing (which is pretty obvious) but I feel that, as the source of my username, it deserves an airing.

I'm delighted to say that, four years on from its conception, the subject matter now says nothing to me about my life - to quote a fellow angst machine. Sometimes it can be nice to revisit your old work and see how you've changed.

Incidentally, this poem was featured in an exhibition of artists' responses to pieces of writing - here's the collage inspired by mine:

The Gap

Flip the switch -
make dark flood in;
drink air’s new inky spell.
Familiar space becomes a place
of undefined potential.

Head rests heavy
(soft deep down)
in pillow-
propped anticipation;

knowing fingers
twirl fine paper
crafting
easy dislocation.

Light up and
inhale with hungry lungs;
eyes up and
watch smoke collect; then down -

the radio
murmur
grows further and
further,

radio

murmur

grows further

away.

But ochre bright
night-time light
pokes in between thick fabric,
lacing night
with warmth and life and
in flickering eyes -
the neighbour's window,
all lit up
from inside.

She watches her like TV,
the woman in the frame:

beige, bunned hair
slaps side to side
with violin
and pointed chin;
deliberate digits scurry and curl
as the long length of her free limb
expands and lingers, then contracts;
ebbs and flows and comes and goes
rejoicing;

waving giddy welcome
to the girl in the skunk black room,

with neck straight up and eyes strained out
thinking,
“I could too.”