Amy B. Moreno
Edinburgh, Scotland

Amy B. Moreno writes poetry and prose for adults and children. She has recently been published by The Glasgow Women’s Library blog, The Scottish Book Trust, The Ogilvie Review, Writers HQ, Clover and White, Seahorse Publisher, and The London Reader.  She is currently based on the eastern coast of Scotland.
You can connect with her on Twitter: @Amy_B_Moreno

Poem completed on 1st April 2020, and edited on 23rd April 2020.

 

 

Viewers of Tomorrow

I paint on lipstick, then remove it,
Piling my pyramid jewellery
Wary of becoming an over-embellished Renoir subject; half my face in the margins
Already smudged around the edges
Fingers scrabble around for my glasses
I realise I already have them on
And so I watch at the window, at the other houseplants
The Stilled Life
Also looking out, in our frames
a line and a dot on a sun-bleached map
And a silly yellow light that
licks the pavement
lined with a jury of blind-faced shops
I can’t see the flaws from this distance -
the chipped paint façade, cracked like a brittle butterfly wing
the just-too-late offerings at the Terrace Café
the potholes and loose paving stones, affronted at their diminishing importance
The early morning whitewash quiet lasts all day; outside
We sit in drawers in a chest, stacked up
Rattling about between elastic bands, expired gift cards, grand plans and bundled up worries
Even the seagulls are quieter; Nighthawks witnessing the silent smoke
The sea is out of view, but I know it’s there,
and the ships without safe harbour,
the zipped-shut school gates,
and the mocking shadows of sandcastles, built with naïve hands
All those weeks ago, which have slid into each other
Turned us inside out
                                 tomorrow feels like missing a step