beyond the bookcase

by Tamiko Mackison

you ask if we should remove our shoes
as they did –

I shake my head.

a line of pilgrims, mourners of one that represents many,

snakes from bedroom to narrower bedroom
poring over what survived.

you gasp at the steep staircase,
grasping the steps with your fingers to rise

to the next floor where the original sink remains
and a sign says Do Not Touch.

silence hangs like flags in each worn room.
the tall, terraced walls are papered with sadness.

a shopping note from a coat pocket
is now encased in glass:
we preserve the quick, insignificant scrawl
which becomes sacred.

outside, cyclists and trams fly around the city
whilst canal boat captains entice us aboard.
shiny, broad-shouldered professionals
drink small pints outside bars, joking and laughing.

it’s a strange world.

for every basket of pink geraniums that tumbles over a bridge
I smile.

she’s taught us more than we can ever know.

Tamiko Mackison read Latin and French at New College, Oxford. She was the winner of the BBC Radio 3 carol competition 2021. She has published two poetry books: "SHIMA (Islands)" (Alien Buddha Press, 2022) and "Seasons of Love Around the Rising Sun" (Broken Sleep, 2023).