Alt text of poem: My glass was ice empty when I met you but my eyes were full. Thawed vermilion through the future I saw in your glacial hips. Frozen shut by the gentlest brush of my elbow. I didn’t think my eyelids could contain you all – inevitable and effortless, an iceberg under glitterball. You asked my name and clanked it against your teeth, wrapped your tongue around it, melted it, and trickled it back into my ear to see if you had it right. I didn’t know – that night I learnt its true sound through your lips and repetition.
Ed Roffe writes poetry within and adjacent to themes of liminality, mental health, love and family. Frequently he can be found at Oxford Brookes University, where currently he is studying towards an MA in Creative Writing, and occasionally also on Twitter, @roffeed.
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