Tenderfoot

4.30 pm

Author

Ellie Clay is a part-time poet, casual raconteur and recent graduate of UNSW.

She is at the crossroads of future prospects and is just trying to keep it real for now.

Ellie Clay

I climbed through brambles
It was blush and wool
a bleeding stitch, unfelt
An open window
to let twigs in
when the wind yelped

Inside everyone, inside

Gracing into afternoon
The sky compressing
We battened down the hatches
against thunder rolling and breaking
and the silence of lightning

And it was humid and it was all wrong
A tumult across our dome
It looked fierce but it wouldn’t do any damage
Would it?

I am not ready for this
I am still out in the field
racing against those brambles
gasping towards shelter
sweat and the first raindrops linking, streaming down my brow

We’ve stayed too long outside

If I were a child
I could bury my head underground
and block my senses to this
Or bury myself in you
Under layers and layers of what you said would be the best of us

But we must pave our own way out

A window! Follow me!
We can be safe, we can stop together, we…

I thought you were behind me.

I was so sure.