Where new writing finds its voice

Two Islands

Rosie Allabarton

Round English vowels
stuck to the ceilings of mouths.
Forgotten and remembered;
intermittently taken hostage
by the rise and fall
of Denmark
sliding down steamy kitchen tiles.

Little Denmark ran between the rooms.
Tiny fists stuffed with crisps and
A Scandinavian jumper clinging
to angular Scandinavian collar bones.
A neighbourly quiet
hanging between our two islands.