FebulousFebruary 2025: Lost and Found

Women’s Land Lifer

 

 

You’re pouring your heart out

Whilst I’m eating my breakfast.

 

You are eating your breakfast.

 

My heart’s breaking it’s fast on you,

Pouring you into me.

 

The night before, a sex ox, lost inside her reckoning,

(Not cottoning on where sisters by birth really come from)

Has spread my inner wall with elixir from yours,

Lost in a fantasy of future women’s land babes, who

swim your come in freedom.

 

Lovers who came before wonder

Where on earth you picked me up from.

 

They chat on your walls as they

conjoin me in their ordinary supernatural bonds.

 

Tucking me in folds of their miracles,

Your feathered nest of lesbian idols have

Swooned me in love’s beguiling

Smoke, filling your cove.

 

Outside I pad softly, finding hearts in still life,

A thorn pricks a red globe,

Water shimmers surfaces in

Black lined up buckets against stone,

Rusts of red and green run into each other’s

Slithers on corrugated rolls of roof

Brazening out Welsh winters.

 

A strong hearted front door

Smiles broad for all those wild enough to make it up the track,

Migrants welcome here, the chipper sticker says above the latch.

 

Barns spill over bric a brac of sisterhood survival,

A pile of old tyres like 20th century wonders to behold,

 

The land’s myths and vintage seasons are flames

Like ghosts who linger and singe her open space,

 

Trodden paths of squelch and sunder for

Any woman to take a tearing swipe at, each time a couple make a go of it.

 

Remnants, attempts to manifest,

An open yard minus horses,

Memories of skin blooming in sunlight hover,

 

Planted feats of engineering in each well constructed structure,

Female brawn and ingenuity

In communal subsistence, healing;

 

Tools leaning against a wall, soon to be at work In the next woman’s hands.

 

It was the thumb where Gaia went wrong

We laugh, with gusto, crossing the path that leads me to your door

That lowly thumb, lethal.

 

And every breath I take and every step

Is somehow thick with aftermath.

Hearts suspended in mid air for time,

Love of their lives, like mine, you

Were their becoming, their crossing of their rubicon.

 

I look into the soft face of your ex

The second she found mine through a lense

Basked in rainbow rays,

Where she sits beside you,

Your gaze lost in your MacBook,

found photograph on mine.

 

I wish strength to her elbow,

Dare not even imagine the pain she must have endured as separation dawned,

Keenest of keening,

A day I could never wake up to.

 

I wish us power,

Pray for longevity for our young poly bed,

Your shot at settling down, the tilling of your soil With me and Red.

 

I pray for sound roots for all our sisters,

The tree of Women’s Land diaspora bracing all future storms in unions of

Tribal love.

 

 

 

 

 

Maria Andrews from London