And here I sit and pack my soul
into the red red suitcase.
For I am paper planes
Crisping under sunlight through a magnifying glass,
and she is the hand waving,
behind the glass.
They are all hands waving,
pressing nails beneath our eyes
to hold in the salt water;
for the make an ocean here would drown us.
And I do not know whether I will feel further away;
the last few months have been the distance
that I tracked with string, holding our lines together
like a spider’s web across the map.
there was no salt water between us then,
only the rising flesh of the earth’s own secretion.
When I get there I will light a lantern for you.
and let the mist of distance breathe in the cracks between us.
Roma Havers is a Manchester-based poet, currently in her third year of an Drama and English degree at The University of Manchester where she is the Books Editor for The Mancunion and Chair of the Creative Writing Society. She performs regularly at spoken word nights, and events such as Reclaim the Night and UniPresents.
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