Two poems by Elisabeth Alain

Bruise

 

Blooms; spilled ink in clear water
paints the underside of petal-tender skin
purple-grey and pink-red

 

Pales; imprint of light behind closed lids
fades the memory of its vicious birth
behind a fragile veil

 

Ages; yellow-green and mud-brown
pleads in hushed tones
for permission to retreat

 

Restores; soft ripe fruit
invites careful touch –
remains thumbprint vulnerable.

 

Fluff

 

Bitterness drifts under the TV
gathers fluff, corrupts the resident spiders

 

Disappointment, hidden between books
waits, pressed flat and forgotten

 

Unspoken words slip behind sofa cushions
break confidence to stray pennies

 

Resentment, swallowed by sore throats
brews bile to spit in later arguments

 

Resignation, sighed into stale air
loses patience, slips out the front door.

 

Elisabeth Alain

 

 

Biography

Elisabeth Alain lives in Worcestershire, raising two daughters and writing short stories and poetry. Her work has appeared in poetry anthology Please Hear What I’m Not Saying, and online in The Cabinet of Heed, Paragraph Planet, The Drabble and Dear Damsels.

elisabethalain.wordpress.com
@ElisaWrites

 

Banner image: Adrien Ledoux

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