/ on the days / blood rushes at the corner of a nail / you cannot keep your jumper off the door handle / table tackles leg / expect the bruise in two days’ time / pansies nodding in speckles of rain / dish en route from dishwasher to shelf thinks your kitchen floor would benefit from the addition of a mosaic / a stranger steps across the unspoken boundary of your comfort zone / a puddle decorates you with mud / the bathroom scales discover a couple of pounds of flesh / no matter how many cans you feed into the foodbank collection point / to ease the guilt of spilling spite into the world / a flock of starlings sprays from the rooftops like bullets / still you chew the ear of anyone who’ll listen / the dog shakes a limp sock from the washing basket / while you weep over half-chopped onions / some karmic pressure deftly guides your fingers to the blade / the red bricks of your house give out and crumble like digestives / the iceberg looms / vast plate of broken mirror / Rome shimmers in the cleft of the horizon / you take on momentary religion: Oh God, what have I done to deserve this?
Cherry Doyle lives on Cannock Chase in Staffordshire. Her work has appeared in various magazines and anthologies. Her pamphlet September and collection The Taste of Rain are available from Offa’s Press. Find out more at cherrydoyle.com / @cherrydoylepoet (Instagram).