Two poems by Olivia Dawson


He leaves a threadbare rug
laid out for me like an invitation.

Cold stubble under my toes
I feel the patterns mapped out by his feet

and step into them like snowshoes
to carry me over the deepest drifts.
(Commended in Second Light’s Poetry Competition 2013 and published in ARTEMISpoetry November 2013)

Sometimes I display a fan
of glossy invitations, showy

as peacock feathers,
or my Rolling Stones badge,

pinned to a shrivelled rose
for a conversation piece.

Once I laid out family photos,
but they disturbed the space,

curling like cellophane fish
in the heat. Today a small nude

poses between two bowls
with silver rims. A sprinkling

of dust dims their reflective glaze
which only shows glimpses of me.
Olivia Dawson has an MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and has had poems published in Magma and ARTEMISpoetry. Her poems have been commended in various competitions.