there is a message written on the wall in charcoal. if I try to rub it off the. silver film will
stain my fingers. bitter taste when pressed against lips. drizzle seeps in through the
window leisurely collecting in an effervescent pool. come on in and join us the water’s
fine. take off that bathing suit. your nipples are poking through the polyester. insects
are unable to swim in the strong currents. i offer a ladybird rescue. breaking the wing instead. delicate wing. i cry in the bath while the basin turns grey. the rubber duck
looks the other way.
this place is spacious. i can reach out and neither my fingers or toes will touch the border. the colour of the room invites the illusion of extra light despite the lack of windows. people move freely which interrupts my headspace especially ones that don’t realise you have to be quiet here. i must sit. stop myself from getting caught in circular motion. orbit around the single consistent presence. in undertow. dizzy. scared I will trip and scrape my knees on the concrete. an entrance. an illusion. without means of passing through for me. not even a glimpse of the other side.
Joe Shaw is a BA Creative Writing Graduate and current MA Art History & Curating student. It is at this intersection of disciplines where Joe gets his artistic inspiration. His work focuses on the collaboration between poetry and fine art, the written and the visual. Previously Joe has been featured in Porridge Magazine, The Projectionist's Playground and Steven Fowler's University Camarade in London