The Last Night in the Cottage by the Sea
I am inside. Walls are my biscuits.
I could eat them all day long
and never be full.
The carpet is the weave around hundreds of pockets.
I have put myself inside them
piece by piece.
Wind howl down the chimney tells me
about the moon. Full outside comes
with a shaft of light if I take a peep.
A silver stripe across the sea spreads
triangular towards me. I am
an unbalance of atoms caught in a time box.
Hannah Linden is published widely including or upcoming in Atrium, Lighthouse, Magma, New Welsh Review, Prole, Proletarian Poetry, Stand, The Interpreters’ House, Under the Radar and the 84 Anthology etc. She is working towards her first collection. Twitter: @hannahl1n