Afterthought by Ali Jones

Please consider this a note of apology.
We didn’t know that you were the last.
That’s why we didn’t finish it properly,
leaving in a flurry of possessions divided,

lives in transit to other places, keys yoked
back through the lion mouthed letter box.
You weren’t even there, not present,
a frame filled with the otherworld, ghosting

between walls, not ready to hatch and take
in the heavy air. I tried planting things
to bring you back, potatoes, and tomatoes,
chrysanthemums to bless the door with incense.

I thought I could bring you in through conjuring,
circles, shaping letters, fingertip to glass;
but I know now that it is impossible to transform
base elements without understanding alchemy’s tricks.


Ali Jones is a teacher, music lover, and mother of three. Her work has appeared in Proletarian Poetry, Ink Sweat and Tears, Snakeskin Poetry, Atrium, Mother’s Milk Books, Breastfeeding Matters, Green Parent magazine and The Guardian. Her pamphlets Heartwood and Omega are forthcoming with Indigo Dreams Publishing in 2018.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s