At Home

By: 

Anna

Brikciusova

alone
for a week, two,
month,
whatever takes it long

book wants to play,
flies to the ceiling,
into the corners,
back and forth

suddenly
without knowing
you are silently smiling

More from Poems

Heathrow Airport Toilets

Heathrow Airport toilets are composers: their overture is largo: Their instruments are the echoing footstep, the...

HOW TO BREATHE

This poem was written during lockdown last year. I am lucky to have my local park,...

Moments

Moments of connection were so precious and effort was made with a simple smile in unexpected...

Become a Member

Our Members are champions of literature. Their support makes our engagement work in schools and prisons possible and they enable us to celebrate literature in all its wonderful diversity. As a thank you, we give them all the joys of a literary festival and book club rolled into one, all year round.