Back on the floor
Feeling where
The ground connects
My back, my neck
My hands
That press into
The earth and where
It goes down down
Into that living ground
The breath
That beats inside
One hundred living things
In layers that lie beneath
Their words complete
A comfort
To sink inside
Would be
A kind of comfort
To me
About the Creator
Annie Gibson
Annie Gibson is a writer and illustrator living and working in London with her two cats.
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More stories from Annie Gibson and writers in Poets and other communities.
The World is Not Good Enough For Tigers
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Katia wrapped the blankets tight around her feet. She had tried to start a fire even though she had known the wood was wet. Some pine cones and kindling had burned fast for a few minutes before dying back leaving her with the candle. She still had her winter cost on but she had taken her boots off and left them neatly by the door. Neatness was a habit that had been tattooed into her with small relentless acts of violence.
By Annie Gibson4 years ago in Fiction
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 6 days ago in Confessions
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