You I’ll suffer madly; a fool, gladly taking lashings for time dashed that I never quite understood. You I can’t catch; all my words roll down the hills of your back like water, instead of sticking with honeyed fingertips where they should. You I cannot match; time hurtles around you - a question mark that keeps running without a point to keep it in check. Shapeless flight; you are the moon, slippery and bright. The sun burns itself into a pit; I wish I was in it, where the throes of its rage tear and flay at such delicate threads. You are long gone; in my mind’s eye, new waves in my brain destroy you - divine nothing. By morning, gone too soon. There is no evergreen.
About the Author:
Grace is a 25 year-old poet and freelance French translator from the UK. Her work explores the ineffable, unsayable gunk in our brains, and is focused on rhythms of sound and silence. Some of Grace’s recent poetry features in a global women’s anthology entitled BeautiFUl Ways to Say and online, with Silent Auctions and In Looking Out. Grace was longlisted for the Erbacce Poetry Prize 2020 and has forthcoming pieces in Sauer Magazine and Orange Blush Zine. She recently graduated with an MPhil in French Literature from Cambridge and is currently working on her debut collection of poetry and aphorisms. More examples of her work, and her dog Barry, can be found on Instagram (@grace_tckr).
