360 Degree Review
I got it verbatim,
what they all thought,
the rush of frustration
only just missing my kidneys.
The times they said nothing –
a growing ball of paperclips,
pay issues and early departures,
winding me with its momentum.
And before I knew it, the ducking
was done and I was floating
in pond weed, being professional.
I can push upstream
like this for a hundred more
meetings, from hare moon
to harvest, making it work.
Watch me. And if it should come,
the baying, the rope, the stake
on the platform, that day I will
step up and, in the fraction
of the second there will be,
I will raise my hand and point
and you will know me.
Afterwards, she picked her sharpest kitchen knife
and sliced a perfect semi-circle, scooped out the contents
and, as if to dine, laid down her best pieces from frontal lobe
to pituitary, hippocampus to amygdala, and examined every inch
for faults. When done, she folded all away, collapsed the table,
and waited for the sun to prise her shadow from her heels.
She watched it grow, a black extraction in the waning light.
Rachel Kerr’s poetry has appeared in a variety of publications including Dreamcatcher, The Stares Nest, and Piqué (Templar poetry). Born in Sunderland and raised in Scotland, she now lives near Bradford where she runs a weekly writing class. Her pamphlet, Sounding for Home, is published by Half Moon Books. http://www.facebook.com/rachelkerrwriting
Image: Eclipse – David Coldwell