You know nothing about
Me and that stings,
That you don’t know what I like to read o’ winter nights,
Which finger I like to stick up at sexism,
What time of year I love best;
It’s early summer when the sky’s iridescent, and I can lie on the sticky new grass, gaze at the fat clouds floating heavenwards,
Apple blossom threaded through my hair.
But you didn’t know that, never thought to commit it to the library of memory.
The boy I’m half in love with has learnt what lights me up like a firefly, apart from being with him. The only thing that links us now, is the blood which slides through our veins, wraps its tendrils around our wrists.
That we both have noses like the buttons in Mama’s sewing box,
Thin feet as the angels do in Renaissance paintings.
Tell me
is blood and resemblance
ever enough?
Meredith LeMaître is a home educated writer and dancer from Brighton, UK. Her poems have previously been published in Hebe Poetry magazine, Now Then Manchester and Risen Zine, she has also been Highly Commended in Foyle Young Poets’ Award and was a Poetry Rivals 2016 finalist. You can find one of her articles on Hebe Poetry website. She loves writing, crafting, acroyoga and ballet and is interested in colour, languages and mythology.
Don Thompson was born and raised in Bakersfield, California, and has lived in the southern San Joaquin Valley for most of his life. He has been publishing poetry since the early sixties, including a dozen books and chapbooks. For more information and links to his publications, visit his website San Joaquin Ink (
Foxglove Journal 