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,
A rictus
Fixed in painful place.

Her rumbling need spirals, coils and whips. 
Her typhoon
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,

            Grumble

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.