A Space of Her Own
A thirty-year-old woman walks into
the wee sma’ hours of a December
night. Snow is light
on her hair and the back
garden shrubs. It thickens. The sky
turns white. She stands still.
Her boots are coated, and the heels
disappear. The porch door is open, so
the snow blows into the scullery.
The washing line droops
with the weight. It is
a skipping rope. Snow laces
the rockery, drowns the wush
of car engines. The woman turns,
face wet with teary melting
flakes. She goes in through
the door, searches for a suitcase
in the guest bedroom,
climbs onto the bed.
Maggie Mackay’s poem How to Distil a Guid Scotch Malt is in the Poetry Archive’s WordView permanent collection. Her second collection The Babel of Human Travel (Impspired.com ) was published in 2022. She reviews poetry collections at The Friday Poem (https://thefridaypoem.com). Twitter handle : @Bonniedreamer