I can pinpoint the moment.

A sudden silence of traffic,

and voices

weaving a scary tale,

far away,

then further still.

 

Under the fluorescent lights,

I folded.

 

I didn’t catch anyone’s eye

but breathed deeply.

It didn’t help.

I’d ended up on the ceiling

looking down on myself.

 

My heavy blue beads

clunked and swung

with each swivel of my neck.

No one noticed.

 

Below, the other me had finished her tea

and was sorting change from her purse.

I called out. She didn’t glance up.

 

Rivulets of condensation

on the steamy window

seemed to tell me to follow, follow

as if droplets of water

could guide me home.

 

 

 

 

 

Belinda Rimmer author photo

 

Belinda Rimmer has worked as a psychiatric nurse, counsellor, lecturer and creative arts practitioner. Her poems have appeared in magazines such as Brittle Star, Dream Catcher, ARTEMISpoetry and Obsessed with Pipework. More poems can be found online—Clear Poetry, Amaryllis, Ink, Sweat & Tears (pending) among others. She won a competition to have her poem turned into a film and has read at the Cheltenham Literature Festival.

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