In a Meditative State
 
Tuesday evening logs on and zoom.......
it’s the meditation session.
 
Mike’s smile is planted within a sepia bouquet.
It’s growing across a screen saturated
with a byting scent of broadband.
Drunk on a day’s adrenalin but still upright,
my legs are in no mood to pay attention.
They’re restless. I turn my back on them,
close the door and head upwards
but they hear me thinking about them
and follow.
 
I’m in the little room below the roof.
It’s stuffed with everything I can bring to mind.
A space at the centre has found a chair,
it sees the window peering in as I release the latch.
Mike’s voice slides through
between the breaths he tells me to take.
My legs have kicked the door open
and the chair is sitting and waiting.
We’re all here.

Flexing into
tingling sneers,
they’re partners
in a swinging
symmetry,
kicking up
a wild
can-can.
It’s painful
to share.
Why is it
that those
closest
always
hurt us
the most?
It’s something
to be
mindful of,
between
breaths,
not to
ignore,
as my
back strains
to another
dance routine.

Susan Wilson
 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan Wilson would be pleased to hear them.