pannCREATIVE: My Favourite Poem

 

My Favourite Poem

My favourite poem is the five minutes, ten minutes, sixty minutes after she wakes up, when she squeezes her eyes closed and buries her face into the pillow, refusing to make eye contact with me because she knows I won’t allow her another moment of sleep if she should. My favourite poem is the soft noises she makes as I kiss her shoulders and back and pull her against my body, my nose pressed into the side of her neck. My favourite poem is, “I’ll wake up now.”

My favourite poem is how she peers around the bedroom wall when I get home, her face split into a grin as she watches me throw my keys onto the side. It’s the way she bounces on her tip toes and hops over to me, waiting eagerly for me to shed my layers of bags and coats and scarves and gloves before she throws her arms around my neck. My favourite poem is, “I missed you.”

My favourite poem is watching her cut the vegetables for dinner. My favourite poem is the face she pulls as she cuts the chicken with scissors because it’s easier than a knife. It’s her sliding a stick of celery across the counter to me because she knows if she doesn’t I’ll pick from her pile of chopped vegetables. It’s hands on her hips as she looks around the kitchen to see what she’s forgotten. My favourite poem is, “Will you put a timer on for the rice?”

My favourite poem is her arm around my shoulders. It’s the smile in the corner of her eye as she helps me remember how to breathe. It’s the way she closes down the laptop and moves it across the room so I can’t see it any more. It’s the way she pulls me past a shop window before I have a chance to see inside. My favourite poem is, “Hey, do you see that? Do you see it? No, it’s nothing, but I didn’t want you to look over there instead.”

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