The Orangery

in this echoing chamber    
where previously i had sung submissions requested by a daughter  
renditions barely recognisable      
abusing the acoustics    
we are graced with  
     
you read while kinetic energy waltzes across an aged stone floor
with doors pegged wide
to entice  a public foreign to the communal sound    
an exchange of brain waves    
staves in my confidence curling in the pit of my belly    
undressing and redressing
within the pages of my notebook      
looks across the room swollen with a familiarity    
i cannot contribute    
and in a mute fashion
once called      
i shimmy over
simmer over shaking text within my hands    
dont want to stand
but lay across the floor staring at the apricot ceiling    
embracing this feeling of complete terror and endevour    
to read free to you that way    
letting my throat go at what to say
when to say it    
let fitting pages of practiced lines lie    
at my side    
where sleeping dogs did as a girl    
unfurl within myself
bloom out from my chest    
as i rest
unaware of eyes
only ears
only breath    
and nerves and brains and tombs we brought
kindred to our souls    
stolen away into cupboards mostly
yet here
giddy on the rush of being
of seeing    
more than scribbles on paper
dribbles of something no one will hear    
we sear
legacy
deep into the sanctuary
of sun soaked walls