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arrivals and tiny deaths

Isla Ure

Do you remember it?

Mine arrived in the bath.


Not bad really,

for all the circumstances it could have been: 


gym class,

public swimming pool,

a sleepover.

I'd imagined them all. 


It was a strange kind of turning point.

Full of expectation.


It was a beginning,

and an end. 


And soon it became a thing to navigate

between new lovers


I'd say coyly:

I can't, it's my time.


"My Time"

Oh dear.

So enigmatic.


And then, after contraptions are pulled out

and hormones allowed to reconfigure, 

I wait ...


And this time, when it arrives


It’s like a tiny death,

and gigantic defeat.


A mournful echo of 

I'm not enough.


But one day it will be gone,

and I'll probably feel sad.

Because it will have been 

one of the only constants in my life, 


reminding me to surrender

to my magnificence.

 
 
 

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CONTACT

isla.ure(at)googlemail.com

Representated by Nicky Lund @ David Higham Associates

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