by Jo Somerset
She tweaked the thinning umbilicus twine,
Throaty summons along the thrumming wire,
A thousand ageing soundwaves hummed.
Fingering my ringing ear
I’m whipped like tumbleweed home
Along the ancient cord that binds.
A sharp tug –
My face a ridiculous grin,
Fixed in painful place.
Her rumbling need spirals, coils and whips.
Swoops me to zombie heights,
Feet leaving earth, upward,
Upward I am
A pinball shot beyond its casing,
fumbling for clumsy memories.
Old rules fall away,
New numbers clutter
The instruction book.
Double the jumble of stakes.
She pulls the cord to a perilous tension.
I could not bear it if it snapped.
I would crumble.
Please, once again,
In the old way.
Jo Somerset | https://josomersetwriter.wordpress.com
Jo Somerset is a Manchester-based writer. Publications include poetry in https://anothernorth.org/ and Generations (Write Club OU, 2019), Passion Prioritised in the Diva Book of Short Stories (2000), ‘Pushing the Boundaries of Feminism in a Northern English Town’ (Northern History, March 2018), and articles for Total Women’s Cycling.
She has jointly brought up five children and is currently applying my creative juices to a Creative Writing MA at Salford University.