JESSICA WOOD – YORKSHIRE
I Come From
I am more than I know,
but right now I come from,
Millennium, a house with nine bedrooms
that bustled then burst into fireworks.
I come from the desperate twisting of limbs,
searching for the black outline where
I was etched onto this page.
I come from ancestral love, puffing itself
out, then released, like air from a balloon
into fireside circles and hushed murmurings,
From reckless wandering; collecting scraps
of change flung from bright yellow jeeps,
wages, for our street show of funny faces.
From creeping past boundaries & gathering
golf balls to mark distances and conkers that
harden in the years between.
From echoes of granddad, the
songs we sing that he first taught us and
the way, silent now, he fills us instead with money,
food and toothless smiles.
I come from the space inside closed eyelids,
when you push your eyes deep into the sockets,
for no reason than to renew your vision.
I come from afternoons sitting in dappled sun
light that looks how wind chimes sound
and from infinite possibilities held in the
palm of predetermined actions.
I come from the idea of cause and effect
I come from all the
‘I come froms’ that have yet to wash over me.