Sun Room
The builders dug the foundations, flooded them
with concrete. I watched it set under a red sky.
They brought in glass, stacked it high,
a lofty frame to catch the sun and moon.
It was when I was growing you, drinking water all day
to stop you from wilting in the heat;
when my belly was full of your tiny bones
and fast-thumping heart;
when you sucked in my skin for your skin,
silently, in nights too hot for sleep.
I lay there, imagining your feet
gently tapping my hands.
I heard a bird shuffle on the sun room roof
and wondered if today would release us.
Abigail Meeke lives in Devon with her husband and baby daughter. She gained her BA in Theology 12 years ago and was a newspaper journalist for ten years before she went over to the dark side – PR. She gained her MA in Creative Writing in 2011.