Trash those Tears
 
The bricks are red and raw
pushing through from the outside
forcing themselves out of place
like teeth with age-lengthened roots
falling from the gum.
 
I hear a pair of hands
holding their chosen chisel
now they’re hammering right through
they’re chafing on a feeling
a space for me to breathe.
 
A tap against the wall
I have to let it all in
so I can let it all out
onto the cold white paper
an enamel that folds.
 
Always invisible
I feel invisible too
now I’m on the other side
the faces are walking past
look how no-one will see
the bricks as they crumble
the mortar as it dries out, waiting.
 
I scrape together any old rubbish
as a distraction
then you come with your broom
and sweep it all away
you come with your mop
and we mop up together
to clean up all the mess that I have made.

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