Cerys Fletcher

Christchurch, New Zealand

Cerys Fletcher (she/her) sometimes writes and publishes original poetry zines. She is twenty in August (and still coming to terms with it). She probably wants to talk to you. (Instagram: @cerys_is_tired)

 

Poem was completed  28 May 2020

 

UNPRECEDENTED TIME

 

ten months in              i make you

pack things & lockdown          with me.

a request i considered in

the airport toilet,

sanitiser stinging like so many                       small bees.      it was

 

like tv: my soul started           singing             about you
& the prosecutor                    

e j a c u l a t e d,

 

!! YOUR HONOUR, I DON’T SEE WHAT

THIS HAS TO DO WITH THE --

 

& then the judge looked at me with curious
eyes & I looked back. her knuckles
tightened on the gavel & she said

 

i’ll allow it,
this once.

 

i know nothing about law. we wake when we want.

your breath morning-reeks.

 

in the room where once

i was fourteen,            you finger me.

in the day where we are older,

we strip

pillow from
case &

lay it     naked
on the roof, let the bed b r e a t h e .

 

small rules form: no twitter, yes walk. i think

 

I WILL FORGET HOW TO LOVE YOU
WITHOUT A STATE OF EMERGENCY
RINGING IN THE BACKGROUND.

 

can’t imagine you one day leaving, in a building across

the country.

 

Before was a dream we had while

packing our things, before whole

cities

 

rumbled with the lonely. I’ll allow it,

This once, if you want to cry

Into my neck. In the room

Where once i was fourteen, we live.
This once.