It is like a lurch in the heart,
not a pang of love,
but that same throb.
It gathers at the centre of my ribcage,
a fistful of cloth.
It is a pebble, hard and smooth
that will not be moved or
chipped away.
It is a mouth fixed downwards, a resigned stare,
a gentle sigh that starts like hope and then fades.
It is my friend, my companion,
a full stop to my day.
It is the zip that is closed along my lips.
It is the red centre, the quiet heart of me.
(Cheating today – an old poem that I found in a journal. Thankful that I don’t feel like this anymore.)
elisabeth pike 