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
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Words and photo by Amelia Bird