connection Poetry

WHEN ALL THIS IS OVER | Emily Tucker promises to do the things that the pandemic has stopped.

Poetry

by Emily Tucker

I will smile so sweetly,
at the old woman squeezing tomatoes,
In Sainsbury’s.
I won’t want to heave,
at how many
She’s touching. 

I am going to get SO drunk,
trip through crowds of strangers
In a Friday night pub.
I might even ask someone 
for a sip,
or two,
of their pint. 

I’ll make habit again,
of running for the tube,
making people sigh,
when I push through the doors,
at the 
very 
last 
second. 

I am going to read menus like novels
order plates 
upon plates
upon plates 
of food that’s been chopped up 
by others.
Then more.

I’ll be a pest at Zedel
And eat all the bread
From the baskets kept where 
waiters breathe. 

I will sit by my granny
nod along to her talk 
and steal sausage rolls
from the plate let half-eaten
by my oily thumbed brother.

With every new mouthful,
I will shout in my head,
I love you.
I missed you. 
I’m sorry.


Emily Tucker | @happyemily93
Emily is a primary school teacher based in North London. Lately she spends her days finishing off a book for children, watching Mad Men on repeat and longing for a trip out to Wagamama. 

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