Why I pause drawing the bedroom curtains
There is a lamppost two doors down the street
grown into the branches of a lime tree.
Night fallen, the leaves are a jellyfish,
a bioluminescent dance
swimming softly down the street
towards me in the rain.
Harriet Truscott is a poet and writer living on the edge of the Fens. Recent work can be read in Magma Poetry, Butcher's Dog, Under the Radar, 192 Magazine and other literary publications. She's part of the King's Place Illicit Poets group and the Romsey Arts Collective, where she is collaborating with ceramic artist Abi Wills on a multi-disciplinary piece exploring breakage.
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