Friday poem: 'Double Take'
By Kate Clanchy
I imagined that you’d miss me, thought
you’d pace your hardwood floor in odd
worn socks, watch the clock sit stuck,
get late to work, type my name caps lock,
press and hold shift/break, miss buses, meals,
or sit with fork half-way, lost, for minutes,
hours, sleep badly, late, dream chases, shake,
send fingers out to pad the pillow, find
my hollow, start awake, roll over, hug a gap,
an ache, take a walk, damp dawn, of course,
wrapped in a mac with the collar up, glimpse
a slice of face, tap a stranger’s back, draw a blank;
as I have. Each time, I run to press your face
to mine, mine, shining with imagined rain.
From Kate Clanchy's Selected Poems
Kate Clanchy is a short story writer as well as an award-winning poet. Her latest collection The Not-Dead and the Saved has been longlisted for the Edge Hill Short Story Prize 2016.
‘Clanchy started her career as a poet, and her stories, not surprisingly, are as compressed as verse, without a word to spare . . . They are literary hand grenades, raising difficult questions about the world in which we live - which is exactly what we need right now.’ The Guardian
Read Kate’s story ‘Aunt Mirrie and the Child’
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