by Holly McKenna
“i let it burn but it just had to be done”
the bomb, florence and the machine
i wrote about love as though i owned it.
i stowed papers absent-mindedly to be
swallowed up into kindling again.
the pain doesn’t change, just where you store it –
asbestos fingers roused as the promise
of softness masked a reserve of steel wool.
i’ll make beaded bracelets in the burning
house whilst you evacuate at first spark.
i can’t muster tears to put the fire out –
i sway to the blaze, salve in hand instead,
as the smoke insists on catching you up.
you’ll wear me whether you like it or not.
my mind makes a home amongst the debris.
it’s easier to write poems from ash.
{hlm}
Holly is an emerging poet from central scotland. she is the poet-in-residence for glasgow university's women in law project and has been published in myth and lore, open shutter press, the levatio, honey and lime, vita brevis press, and qmunicate.