Today began with a run to hold deadlines at bay,
stuttering, jolting, a trip on gravel,
a dog’s extendable lead tangled around her ankles,
in the borderlines of a park shooting
promise of the coming spring birch, horse chestnut, lime,
a heavy breath of morning’s shiver, mosaic puddles of dishwater rain.
the dog owner deserting her, his only words were how unfortunate
She’d cancelled treats, that weekend at Mike’s,
a day cut from a skiing week for a shock funeral,
gone, those evenings of gossip and bubbles,
the fizz fizzing, his heart burst like hers
poked, picked to death by rumblings
spun under skies squeezing sandstone tenements walls, and diners spilling
from pre-theatre eating,
the click clack of stiletto heels over cracked paving stones,
cashmere coat brush against graffiti-splashed lampposts.
She stumbled up between muddled joggers,
counting steps against the joint ache
like a prodigal journeying towards a refuge,
imagining her breath consumed by wood fire or the stench of hyena kill,
the sweat of unwashed bodies on the Hill Road,
She took sanctuary behind her shuttered sash windows,
humming melodies, pushing through ankles,
wrestling late winter-grey bare
The year stacked
at a lilt on the ones before.
Maggie Mackay is enjoying life as a final year Masters Creative Writing student at Manchester Metropolitan University where she is currently working on her poetry portfolio. She has work in various print and online publications, including A New Manchester Alphabet, Bare Fiction, Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Interpreter’s House, Prole, Indigo Dreams Publishing and in several Three Drops Press anthologies.