Back from its short, continental jaunt new poetry comes this week – in its now-familiar double-dose – from London’s Stacey Teague
Stacey Teague lives in London, has a book of poetry forthcoming from Scrambler Books in Summer 2014.
She can be found online here:
s.w.i.m
what summertime makes you feel nostalgic for, everything opens up,
and the air is salt water
we thought that in the warmth we could make ourselves impenetrable.
however, as much as we want something to give ourselves over to, the
seasons don’t decide the ways that we should be, and despite where i
decide to lay my body, it is always winter where you are. it’s true that i
feel how i’ve always felt, with my body drawn inward, i throw thoughts
out into the ocean, to the land mass on the other side
do you know how sometimes you can melt into your computer screen
yesterday i sat in the grass and spoke to a cat for an hour while the
moon ate the sun. i spread my arms out wide on the ground and
watched as mosquitos drew blood from my skin. outside looking out to
the horizon i thought that my body could go on forever and it does,
sometimes
