Hope lies like the edge of a teaspoon, upward facing, a thickness
perhaps enough solidness to knife
through a banana or other soft fruit
for safety for a baby or to get under
the edge of the surface tension
of the skin of a grape to start a peel.
Perhaps enough boldness to lever
the metal lid off the treacle for tarts
or the mini figurines enamel paint pots
or that tap root of your favourite
weed for a move to safety.
Perhaps enough cheek to plunge
unembarrassed deep into the Nutella pot
for a mouthful of pleasure, thick and sweet
or seek the bottom of the ice cream tub
lap cradled, for Pride & Prejudice again.
Perhaps enough crucible to cradle
nettles or rose buds to boil dead,
to trace around to sketch a face on paper,
or to measure the exact alchemy
needed to rise.
Marcelle Newbold‘s writing explores place and inheritance. Bridport Prize shortlisted, her poems have been published by Poetry Wales, Propel, Black Bough Poetry, Indigo Dreams and others. She is contributing editor at The Winged Moon. Marcelle lives in Cardiff, Wales. socials @marcellenewbold, www.marcellenewbold.co.uk