How it begins
This is how (I like to think) it begins:
night-time, August, the Devon cottage, where
the darkness is so complete, you might lie
in bed, hearing the flit flap skitter
of moth wings, fearing their glancing caress
against your cheek. Better to listen to
the burbling stream, as it ripples towards
that black jagged cliff and waterfall drop
down to the surf-rimmed sea. My mother lies
awake, eight months full with me, whispering
‘not yet, not yet’, and I remain inside
that fluid dark warmth, catching the water’s
sea-seeking call, flexing my untried fins.
Elizabeth Worthen grew up in the wilder reaches of Kent and lives in London. She has worked in teaching, training and digital publishing, and recently completed an MA in Creative Writing at Birkbeck. Her poetry typically explores place and landscape. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/liz.