The Den

Amelia Bird writes "The Den" - transcription below.

Holding and held,

I am sewn into the past,

In this fleeting

grasp of memory I am there,

In that moment I am young

and new and cradled,

Flesh raw to the touch

Countdown humming

Pots clatter next door

Yellow tinted curtains curve,

The World. It's just that room

Nothing more

E n d l e s s

E t e r n a l

In that moment I never

went to his funeral

and wore a black velvet dress

I tried to wear for a month after

In that moment

we are suspended in that childhood place

In that moment it's just us

Even though now I've forgotten his face

Words and photo by Amelia Bird