TWO POEMS by LILAYNA DAVIES
[formatted as a photo due to length and stylization]
When you were seven years old,
your mom caught sight of your fingers
whilst washing your hair
in the bathtub.
Your wrinkled hands had strips of raw flesh,
where you’d bitten off skin,
from the corner of your fingernail
to just below your first knuckle.
Your mom told you to stop,
she seemed angry or upset
and it caught you by surprise.
You told her they weren’t sore,
you told her you hadn’t even noticed
you’d been doing it.
Your mom asked you – is it school,
making you want to do this to yourself?
You shook your head,
wanting to forget the whole thing,
after all, you didn’t notice.
But did you notice the water changing,
the distance between you and land
lengthening with each kick of your legs?
How long did it take before
all you could taste was salt,
before all you could hear were the waves
splashing against and around your body,
threatening to take you further with each breath –
you, hoping that you’d soon reach a place
where nobody noticed you,
where you were no one.
Did you notice the people behind you
getting smaller the further out you got –
did you even look back at all?
If you did, what would you have seen
other than a stretch of blue,
figures dozing on sand,
nobody noticing your empty beach towel
and your footprints leading to shore?
lilayna davies is a lil lonely pisces who lives and works in the uk. she enjoys writing, photography and watching old sitcoms.