In seconds the ice will crack bright on the pond.
You’ll lift a bubble of it in your hand, ungloved.
In minutes the mud will have soaked through our shoes,
And we’ll leave behind the gardens and the bending statues.
In an hour’s time we’ll leave this place I’ve always loved
And in a day anyone might have come or gone.
Hot, tight, soft, close, are goodbyes here,
As though intensity could be a kind of glue,
For all the things we’ve promised here, to glue
Them to my promise that next year,
This city, here.
Rachel is a London-based poet. She was previously a poetry editor for the Mays Anthology and a Young Producer with Poet in the City. Her poetry can also be found on the Poetry Society website, in the Dawntreader and Kindling journals, and unpredictably at live events around London.
Foxglove Journal 