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 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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