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