Holding Onto the Bird
I’m here. Grounded. I bother no one,
live a bare naked existence
on the surface, in visible terms
in all weather clutter-free as simple
as an alphabet written on lined paper.
You can’t see through me, inside
this cardigan, hair and skin.
My eyes may be windows but
there are curtains…one-way viewing.
I see you, wanting, assuming.
I don’t do tests or invite
the unexpected in. Everything
on this side of the line belongs –
you are other and your standing
there is an act of oppression.
Irene Cunningham has had many poems published in lit mags. She lives at Loch Lomond, retired from her day job to scribble away the next pile of years. Her two poetry collections on Amazon: FAIRYTALE, and FIONA WAS HERE – all proceeds to Breast Cancer UK. https://ireneintheworld.wixsite.com/writer