Poem



The heat is cooling a little I might
take a walk down the promenade and count

all the green things I see, like me and Zev
used to do on our way home from nursery in

Jerusalem. Quietly, I sit down on the dense
bench and absorb a chess game, my legs

brown as a chocolate button. Some wasp can’t
leave me be. Most of the time I just crouch on

hot pavements in my bathing suit. Summer is
a good time to do nothing and make no money

not even write a novel just visit churches and steal
breakfast for dinner. Accidently finish crime

and punishment. Remember when I was writing
inside that house you were squatting  in. Remember

when you were always cooking or cleaning or not
searching for me. It’s okay – stray cat, I won’t throw

rocks at you. I only want to look. The happy tobacconist
thinks I am a little genius walking round with all my

empty notebooks. When you fall asleep and

I have no idea what you had for dinner or what
county you are in. is when I need you desperately.

June 2024.

 

.

Blossom Hibbert

 

 

 

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