Recently
I’ve noticed
that a clothes hanger
motivates shoulders
and how knees balance a cello.
That a scruffy pup finds
the nap deep in its own tail.
That a ladder still works
even if you haven’t opened it properly.
That a finger gives up its last space to the nail.
That I came to this cafe to write but the sun
struck gaps in my fringe and a whirlpool
was painted on my forehead. That heat blazes
the tips of my leg hair and I am sweet
meringue. That mostly my pages are empty
because of how bravely quiet you make me.
That early this morning I woke,
looked so closely at your skin
it was grid paper and thought
I don’t want to sleep anymore.
Gemma Barnett is a poet, writer and actor. She won the ‘Poetry for Good’ Prize/BBC Words First in 2021. She was commended for the Outspoken Poetry Prize in 2023. Other published work can be found in Verve Press, Propel Literary Magazine/Anthology, AUB International Poetry Prize Anthology and Anthropocene.