Settlement
The last of you crumbles
through calloused hands.
I am left
with a better grip on reality
little else.
Where once a body grew
calcite ruins
your outline.
If you had become steam
I could have watched you drift away
become rain
seen you again
refracting on a blade of grass
mirrored in conservatory window
nails on glass
begging entrance.
But you are here
where I must leave you
or scoop remains into pocket nestled
layers of denim, earth, wood
corporeal trifle of death
by a thousand cuts
beginning with the severance
of my tenantless heart.
Zoe Davis is an emerging writer from Sheffield, England. A quality engineer in advanced manufacturing by day, she spends her evenings and weekends writing poetry and prose, and especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. You can find her words both published and forthcoming in publications such as: Acropolis Journal, Strix, Illumen Magazine, Full House Literary and Broken Antler. You can also follow her on X @MeanerHarker where she's always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.