POETRY IS LIKE TAKING A DEEP BREATH

Friday 30 September 2011

STANCE





Now I sit my child on the jut 
of my hip, and take
his weight with the curve
of my waist, like a tree
split at the fork,
like lovers leaning out of a waltz.

Nothing is lost, I was never
one of those girls
stood slim as a sapling.
I was often alone at the dance.



Kate Clanchy
1965