Young Writers Society

1st April ~ Jargon

Fibrillation. Diuretic.
Gliclazide – diabetic.
Intubate. Spironolactone.
Schizoaffective. Amiodarone.
Hypergammaglobulinaemia.
Congenital galactosaemia.
Cortical or ventricular,
Coronary, Glomerular.
Glucocorticoid. Blastoma.
Predisposed. Melanoma.

Communication. Pain control.
Advanced directive, living will.
Social history. MDT.
Develop rapport, patient ease.
Family informed, present, content,
Explain risks and gain consent.
Introduction, hand washing,
Allowing silence. Hand touching.
Consultant, registrar, SHO, intern.
Professional. Aloof. Doctor. Human.

2nd April ~ 4am

Nothing holds breathless potential
like the heady mix of youth and the near-dawn dark
this late at night there are no boundaries
just new roads to drive,
new mouths to kiss

There is a sudden freedom in four am
with hands grasping hands and necks and waists,
lips smeared with yesterday's gloss and bittersweet anticipation
of the infinities unfolding around us -
leaving and never coming back
spilling secrets still unshared
running, screaming battlecries at the sky

3rd April ~ Champagne

You could not be a creature of this earth.

Somebody must have stitched stolen starlight
into your skirts.
They carved ivory symphonies
into your breakable bones.
Stories of heroes and tragedies were whispered
on your teasing fingertips.
Pigments not touched in millennia were painted
into the shadows of your skin.

The moon must have used its diamond touch
to harden your heart.

4th April ~ Dark Water

I dove into midnight's reflection,
To remember how it felt to be small.
The sharp water stole my breath from me,
I broke the mirrored surface and sucked in cold air
balm to my shredded lungs.
Stars blinked from unfathomable distances,
reaching through the absence to me.
I tipped back my head, hair dragged under
by water thick and dark as blood, ice-cold.
I closed my eyes, abyss within abyss,
Let it consume me.
No rocks or world to see -
just the result of the human spirit plus time,
that empty vacuum we named 'lonely'.

5th April ~ Cathedral

This is a love song that lasts centuries.
The spindly tower resisted Vikings,
who came and left and came again.

Hulking, looming over the city that bears its name.
It survived storm and sorcery,
a witch child paid to mend the broken bell tower.

Here where we dip our children's heads was Cromwell's trough.
Here are the stained windows
remade when he smashed them.

Twelve hundred years it
has weathered reformation, revolution,
More of an ode to God's glory
than Handel ever wrote.

6th April ~ Seafoam Girl

It's late. In the dull beside light I am
Half-submerged by duvet,
Cheek pressed to my phone
Or to your chest.
What does it matter?
I am counting your breaths,
two to every one of mine
(You'll tease my apparent cyanosis and
I'll call you apnoeic when you snore)
And waiting for the next laugh to erupt
from my unguarded lips.
With you I am soap suds,
Light as air. I am elated.
And with me, sea foam whispering in your ear,
Bubbles bursting on your skin,
How could you ever be sad?

7th April ~ Strength

You told us princesses weren't strong.
Except for the one who donned trousers,
Wielded a sword,
Named herself 'Tom'.
Because strong means man,
And strong means 'fight'.

Then you decided women could be strong.
If they wore tight leather,
And blood-red lips.
If they used seduction to do their work.
Because if strong means woman,
Then strong means 'sex'.

My daughters will be strong.
They will wear lace,
They will laugh easily.
They will kill the world with kindness.
And I will read them princess stories.
Because strong means human,
And strong means 'strong'.

8th April ~ Changeling

I don't know how it happened,
I thought I'd taken care,
Removed the mirrors, closed the doors,
But the evidence is there,
This morning I woke up,
To a March day, dry and mild,
And knew just by the look of him,
This is not my child.

There must have been someone helping.
Maybe the doctors were involved,
They swapped the babies, thinking
their deceit would stay unsolved.
But it's obvious to anyone,
His deep blue eyes are wild,
He's not human, and for sure,
This is not my child.

My husband doesn't see it,
Says I need to go with him,
My mother thinks I'm crazy,
That I'm acting on a whim.
But I know without a single doubt,
Can you not see why I'm so riled?
You're all lying, but I know,
This is not my child.

9th April ~ Chill

Your joints warned you
Of the approaching cold spell,
As you stood on the mat
that said 'welcome'
but meant the opposite.
Despite the chill,
Your palms thought that
this barren place was a desert,
and left an ocean of sweat
on your grey trouser leg.
Forgiveness is hard to give,
Harder still to beg for.

You brought an orchid
to support your case, but it
Withered in the frosty reception.

10th April ~ Gifts

You didn't buy her flowers, you gave
her honey dripping from the comb
fresh from your apiary,
Poetry written at midnight,
hovering over guitar strings just in case
she ever asked to hear it,
A cheap dolphin-curved charm with
a topaz belly to hang
from her bracelet,
Her eyes picked out in vivid greens,
a week's work modelled on a photo,
as she was too busy to pose.
You were so stupidly generous,
with pieces of your wide heart,
more foolish than if
you put the stars in her hands
and asked her to blow them away.

11th April ~ Orbit

Dance with me.
You can be the sun and I'll be the earth.
No, actually,
You be the earth. I'll be the moon.
Either way I will orbit you.
Let the plain white ceiling and lino floor
be the Milky Way, we are standing
on the midnight luxury of space
and it is silent; you cannot hear a word
I am saying. Let me show you.
The law of gravity has never been clearer-
here are two celestial bodies, forever attracted
to one another and yet I am just
that little bit too much myself
to become part of you.
So let's dance, give me your heat, your light
or let me pull your oceans back and forth with
each spin of your axis. I will never turn my face from you.
Not until you crumple in on yourself, suck me into
your disappearance, the opposite of you. Or we crash together
in discordant catastrophe, and thus the world ends.
For now, I will revolve
Around you. Dance with me.

12th April ~ Uncharted

We stood dangerously close to the edge
of becoming something we were never meant to be.
I spend too much time thinking of how
hot and fast your breath was as you peered
into the white water, enraged in its ongoing siege
of the black cliffs. Neither of us spoke.
The storm spiralled purple and electric ever closer,
Threatening any second to betray us, tip us in, but I felt
in that ever-widening gap between my lungs
that if I fell, you would not come with me.
We didn't hold hands. That was probably the point.