International Women’s Day Poetry Series | Aching On Return By Eva Griffin
Aching On Return
By Eva Griffin
Slow humming in my chest
the size of a pinhole
where the Little Skellig might fit
as I ride backwards through Mallow
pulling away from the edge over and over,
further still from the breaking in the rain;
the only sun of October.
The hills are houses once more
and I think if I were alone I could cry
but the train is full and so
to calm the beating I finger
a penny in my pocket,
silver and turning in my beach-weathered hands,
your face reflected in it,
dewy, like the morning I left.
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