After these many weeks, your body is like a once-familiar town that I’m uneasy in. Something is no longer right. I walk the same streets, but no more as someone who should be there, whose natural place it is, to walk them. I’ve become a stranger now, mimicking belonging that was mine before this cruel separation that you forced on us. As for your alleyways, your hidden gardens, I enter with foreboding, or if I can, stay out. I have no desire to trespass, or be caught again when the storm clouds steal the bright moon from you and the rain comes, blacking out a safe path home
About the Poet:
Bruce Hodder has been published widely, most recently in two chapbook collections Hotel Corona and Helen’s House and online at Medusa’s Kitchen and winedrunk sidewalk . Last year his collection The Journey Home was published by Whiskey City Press. He lives in Northampton, England with his wife Michelle.