Sonya Smith poet

Sonya Smith is a local poet, living in Brighton. Her pamphlet Old Panic Undressed was published by tall-lighthouse in 2009 and her poetry was selected for the anthology Poetry South East 2010, published by Frogmore Press. She is currently working on her next publication.

 

 
Sea

Sea, stop your sigh.
Halt your rage.
Know silence,
hear the relief
when I lie in the curve
of your wave;
let you tuck me in.

Sea, grind my bones
on shingle.
Smack your lines
along my spine,
stroke smooth my stone skin,
reduce me to sand
stolen by the wind.

Sea, kiss the feet
of my steep scarp slope,
lick salt over scars.
Let me mourn
in my chalk wedding gown,
glean spark from the sun
bleaching my creases clean.

 

Hide and seek

I want to jump into holes.
Slot through buttonholes,
slip through the puzzle holes
from a time when we didn’t know better
and didn’t pick up the pieces.
I could slide down the garden hole you dug to China,
plummet through the things you hide there.
Hidden warrens and dens
with no end,
holes in the colander
draining your lunchtime peas,
labyrinthine caves in which bears
can’t get to sleep.

Places to fall into, float through;
arms unfettered, meeting no-one,
legs with the covers
kicked off.
Holes in knitted jumpers,
chimney pots.
I want to jump into holes,
follow the ant
into the crack in the slab –
where we sat on the back step
getting sun on our heads.
The dark circles your scribbles make,
the dent in the rice on your plate.
Badger sets you once said gnomes lived in
on that long walk for little legs.
Gaps in the sky,
pauses in what you try to say…
The interval in my day
when you fall
asleep.
 
 

Back to The Needlewriters’ Companion