Hannah Van Hove

from Part / Parcel

 

1.

I want to

make this

you and I

my aim is you

see this and

never forget me

think of me

in these terms

on my terms

I’m an image

a muse

I speak French and

charm the socks

off

people

 

I hang on

to your lips

question only

what

when

I ask what is

blue if not

the sea?

but you were never

convinced

I try to

lure you in

and talk of

shells and

sheep and

small jelly beans which

float like

little tadpoles

getting their

stickiness washed

off

of them

 

Often

often

I still hear you

say it

whisper it

when I ask you

how often?

how many times?

a week?

a month?

a day?
times three hundred

sixty five six

a leap year like

that one

jumping out

on us

your friend’s birthday

on the last day of

the month which is

hardly ever

complete

whole

 

Whole

the holes

I try and pick

and did pick

in the end this is no

longer what I set

out to do

for you to

see this now

I hope you will

treasure it

for a little

how much?

how often?

I don’t know

but please

not for ever

after all

I was selfish in

wanting that

 

 

 

2.

There

you were

and voices

echoed in

the background

Beyond which it

was impossible to

make out it

was impossible to

apprehend it

he she we

yet looming larger it

gave way was

moving

inwards

stretching beyond

and all these

interpretations

accompany yet don’t

reflect that which

that which

 

Which what

the voices squeak and

tugging they

pull the hair

a strand of which is

yanked the pain

a simile of what

happened

when


Hannah Van Hove lives and works in Glasgow. She has recently completed a PhD on mid-twentieth century British avant-garde fiction.

© 2018 Colin Herd and all the individual poets

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