Still Loving

The quiet eye


our ankles,

soft against

each other;


idles in

the under-

ground tavern

I sweep

in my mind,

deep into corners

and back


the wall.


I see


and heavy

jaws of the dark;

a few words

sifted, careless.

I’ve seen them.


I’ve seen you,

fly into a

man’s eye

and out again;

nearing the rope

I keep

in the cupboard.


Distant now;

a thousand

coloured balls


across the



Out of the room

I see you – white;

splash a bee

on the brick-work,

kick on your back

and see me

at the window.


14 February, 2018


4 thoughts on “Still Loving

  1. I enjoy reading this, Vicky, though I am far from an ‘understanding’, my impressions are myriad. For example, while thinking of a fly on the window looking back at the kicking baby in that last stanza, I can’t join this interpretation to what precedes this; but just want to let you know I enjoy running my mind over it all like smooth, but uneven pebbles in the hand.


  2. Thanks for the nice comment, Peter. It is a bit cryptic looking back on it. It’s a poem about observation, I think; seeing things one doesn’t want to see, going a bit mad, and then coming back to a more tangible reality. There is an innocence in the last stanza, which doesn’t fall too far from your baby image. Thank you for contemplating my poem!


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