My little girl came back in camisoles, hair flying as she ran into my arms.
I held her like my own and rightly so, she is mine and I belong to her.
The saintly years undid my posted envelopes with steam and cropped
a hairstyle here and there but she still found me underneath the hearth
with tears in my eyes and beads in my shirt pockets. She found me and she
told me she was back for good and that we would die together unannounced
but not alone. She told me all the things I’d never heard in between the
bannisters, she welcomed back and crawled in to my lap, we came out
from the hole just holding hands and struck a deal against the lot, we were
steel less being stolen and we took down notes on every passing vehicle.
It was almost like a photograph of family but two faces looked the same –
one baggy in the eyes, one softer like the air, a little and a big girl clashing
as we melt and run as one and only, there’s no one left to wave the weapons,
so we hold on high the colours, I couldn’t make the lift without her,
I lay down and in among the ash before she made it back and I had
thought she’d gone, wandering about in long grass singing word to word
a made up song, it’s been too long, she said, I said it too, but in one voice
aloud and to myself.
Tessa Foley is a writer and an administrator at the University of Portsmouth where she formerly gained her Master’s degree in Creative Writing. In 2013, she won the Live Canon International Poetry Competition judged by Glyn Maxwell. She has since been published in magazines such as Antiphon and Agenda. http://www.tessafoley.com/