Annest Gwilym

 

 

The Space Between Breaths
After Kate Edwards

Some are uneasy about the space between breaths.
They say she is a block of raw Carrara marble
before the sculptor exposes a muscled form,
or frankincense tendrils rising from a censer.
To others she crackles like static and is a
sleepless summer night in the Arctic.
Those who taste her insist she is sherbet
dancing on the tongue, or the moment before
ice melts in gin. Gossips say she sometimes
looks like Orion glimpsed between tall buildings,
is the patron saint of sky burials, an Aeolian harp
tangled in willow, the sea before plastic
or the first twist of blossom on the hawthorn.
Some suspect she hides in secret seams
of moonstone, deep in the hearts of mountains.
To dream of her is to hold your breath,
a foretaste and prelude to death.

 

 

Annest Gwilym is the editor of the webzine Nine Muses Poetry. Her writing has been widely published both online and in print. Her first pamphlet of poetry – Surfacing – was published by  Lapwing Poetry in 2018.

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