Trigger Warning
A poem by Rachael Clyne

Trigger Warning

The mouth of my heart hangs slack.
Wasps swarm in with a racket
that stings my thoughts,
mutes my words.

How can this be bigger than me
when it’s inside? It’s generations deep
and is my biome. I try to reason with it,
but fear’s only language is buzz and shake.

I am trapped in a lift hurtling fast–
until I’m at the bottom of the shaft.
The faint glow of exit, far from reach.

A rag doll lies flopped in the corner,
head bowed. I lift her face
her saucer eyes fix on mine.
Kapok leaks from elbows and neck.

I hold her to my chest, tuck her head
under my chin. I cuddle and stroke,
whisper soothings until her body
warms. Then inch by inch,
we sense an updraft.

About the Author:

Rachael Clyne – a retired psychotherapist from Glastonbury UK, is widely published in journals.. Her collection, Singing at the Bone Tree (Indigo Dreams), concerns our connection with nature. Her pamphlet, Girl Golem (4word.org) explores her Jewish heritage and sense of otherness. Her new collection, You’ll Never Be Anyone Else (Seren), expands on these
identity themes to include family, relationships, sexual orientation and aging.
https://www.serenbooks.com/productdisplay/youll-never-be-anyone-else
https://rachaelclyne.blogspot.com/

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