Moving On
Disjointed we sit amid boxes, you and I
lost in the tape and wrap of it all. New
life for us we had said. Our old life had
floundered, had stalled so soon after
birth we had not recognized the truth
till now. You make me coffee. Kettle
boils on bare boards, we drink it out
of washed out jam jars left on a shelf.
We joke it is avant-garde, funky, cool.
It is not. I wonder where to start to
begin to unpick our world. To bring
to light things we had covered over
in the rush, the need to be somewhere
else. Maybe I think I should leave it
boxed, become someone else without
baggage. Maybe I think there is hope.
But I think none of these things. Instead
I take your hand, lift you off the floor.
And together we open the first box.
Maxine Rose Munro is a Shetlander adrift on the outskirts of Glasgow. Her work has appeared in Sarasvati, Open Mouse and Obsessed With Pipework, among others. Find her here facebook.com/maxinerosemunro