Sleeping In The Conservatory
A child sleeps in a glass egg
Crystal shards iced together
Just like a gingerbread house
Camper bed right in the centre
Stars at their celestial zenith stare
Down through glass, sky-swaddled,
Standing guard against the ancient woods
Of crone trees centuries un-toppled
They loom at the garden fringe
Beyond the grandparent’s languishing foxgloves
The koi pond, and red wood summerhouse
Whose tree bodies likely held some mercy
But not those slumped dark figures
They’ll be dragging themselves on up
To fracture the glass with sharpened roots
Like the side of a cup against an eggshell
This glass could fracture the same
Like those peach freckled pebbles
And the child has never seen Nana Anne
Ice one of those back together.
Hannah Elliott is a nineteen year old writer from the U.K. She has work forthcoming with Small Leaf Press and Nymphs. More of her words can be found on her Twitter, @HannahAngelina5, and her blog, inblackandwrite.blog.
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