Gill Horitz
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Sweetheart, Come
This room won’t let me out. Today
I measured our farmyard in it.
Twenty chickens would fit
or our bed, if it was our home.
But there’s no weather, no window.
The doctor says if one word could save me,
what would it be? Then this paper arrived
to keep me company. And a pencil under the bed.
My hand and this wand set out to fetch you,
spelling komm komm komm over and over,
covering the distance between us
until half way down the page komm
becomes a boat with a mast at the bow
and we’re lying on deck, side by side with bent knees
In the centre is the o, the engine
beating like my heart will when you fetch me.
Published Smiths Knoll 21