The Lodger

The Lodger

 You scuttle around my brain after

sleeping in my skull on

a dry straw bed, glowing and

twitching now and then


Periodically stretching, yawning,

sidling out and skirting thoughts.

There it comes, the twenty-fifth day

scratch and sniff of desire that smells

of you that patch I know where

and how

I want it


Unobtainable as leaves falling from

that tree, a windy autumn memory

rustling far away but fresh so fresh

today my mouse.



Emma Woodford

Emma Woodford is social activist and poet based in Belgium. When not writing she brings up two daughters, walks in the countryside and works on civil society projects. This is Emma's second group of poems to be published after first being selected to regularly contribute to Academy of the Heart and Mind.

Post a Comment

Previous Post Next Post