ONLINE POETRY Two Poems by Rhys Milsom

 

A View: Thomas Street; Broadfield Close; Sleep

 

Getting in at

2

a.m.

stinking of other

people’s lies and

a mouth with tinges

of an hour-old

cigarette

knowing that tomorrow’s

going to be

no different sort of

makes it

easier

to understand why some

dissolve out of it all

perhaps they’re not

so

cowardly after all

perhaps they’re the

realists

 

my father’s snores

remind me of

when I was

younger

in my grandparents

house with

the

T.V so loud

& the horses

racing for the needs

of the desperate

with my granddad sat

in his chair

a cigarette burning

away between

his fingertips

shouting at the screen

cigarette ash flicking &

blemishing the carpet

 

I’m on that

carpet

watching with a

golden Labrador polishing

my fingers clean

when the race is over it’s quiet

and the Labrador

sighs and lies down

my head falls on

her softly

breathing

body

golden splinters sewing into

my hair and

creased clothes
my granddad gets another smoke

10 minutes later

he’s

asleep

snoring like my father

the cat settles

curls onto my lap

tiny claws pin-

pricking

my skin

the sound of a car passing on the bypass

my father’s snores

I now know why

Sleep

comes so easily

 

394462

 

We found out
On a Saturday morning
Just after the new year
Then, all the signs
We’d ignored
Made sense
As clear as the blue lines
On the three tests
She’d shown me
Held between
Her chipped, red
Fingernails

Things had to change
Quickly
And they did
There were
No more 6am home times
After a night on the pop
But the odd beer
With the boys
Managed to keep that
Howling dog
Of a habit
In check

We moved
To the opposite
Side of the city
A place with a yard
A front garden
Two bedrooms
An improvement

As the months went on
Our little girl
Grew inside
Feeding
Sleeping
Listening
Breathing
Kicking
Punching
Preparing
For her life
Outside
Of that dark
Pink den

The morning sickness
Was like poison
And lasted
For a solid
7 months
Finally ebbing away
After solutions
Of old wives tales
And antibiotics

Those torrid
7 months
Took their toll
– acid from the vomit
Meant teeth taking
The brunt
And numerous visits
To the dentist

Sleepless nights
Her chest
Cracking open
– her burning heart
Her back
Creaking and pulling
From the life inside

She’d put on 6
During the
Pregnancy
And our baby was
Estimated 7
– she’d lost weight
I’m gonna look fantastic
After I give birth
She’d say daily
You already do
I’d say

And as we lie
Here together
My hand on her belly
1 week before
the due date
I feel our baby
Ivy
Wriggling and
Living inside

In 1 week
Our baby

Our blood

Our DNA
Will be here
Feeding
Sleeping
Listening
Breathing
Kicking
Punching
Preparing
For life
Outside
Of our den

 

me4Rhys Milsom lives in Cardiff with his girlfriend, daughter and two cats. He has had poetry, fiction and reviews published widely. His debut poetry collection, Amnesia, is available now from Onion Custard Publishing. He is the creator of Milieu, a free quarterly night of literature, spoken word, art, photography and visual concepts, bringing together a collective of writers and artists alike. Milieu takes over Little Man Coffee in Cardiff, on the second Friday every three months starting from December. @rhys_milsom

Copyright @ Rhys Milsom, 2015. Banner artwork © Jo Mazelis, 2015.