She found me in a newspaper, next
to the star signs, but really, I read her:
shards of grey in her fringe, forty, maybe fifty,
too tired to dye: nobody left to impress.
Wait, wait – there is someone coming through
the mist between this world and the next.
Put your hands in mine, please.
Hers are wrinkled detergent dry by immersion in sudsy water.
That’s right. It’s a he. His name, I think–
begins with D. No, wait, C.
Watching, watching close, for the flicker
in the eyelid, for the tugdown of her lips.
Yes, C. He was older than you. Hang on,
younger. Much younger and very ill.
My son, she says, every breath a heave.
My little son. He came out wrong, but we gave
him a name anyway, for the vicar to read out.
He wants you to know–
Feel the pulse in her fingers, dit ditdit dit, a flutter
of iron in soft tissue. Pain is profit: I can see the future, and
those digits dip deep down baggy pockets.
He wants you to know that you are not to worry.
That he loves you and he is safe and free from hurt.
The arches of her wavering nostrils flare pink;
I pick at a stitch gone septic inside a psychic wound.
Thank you, she says. Your words are a miracle.
But the rustle of money sounds more magic to me.
Rhian Waller recently earned an English Literature and Creative Writing BA, and is about to begin a Postgrad doctorate in Creative and Critical writing. Rhian has produced stories of various quality since the age of five, has published a handful of poems in magazines such as Cause and Effect and The Harrow, and would very much like to publish some more.
7 Responses to “PREDICTION • by Rhian Waller”
Comments
« INSPIRATION • by Erin M. Kinch | Home | FLUTTER • by Aurelio Rico Lopez III »


November 23rd, 2008 at 8:03 am
Well done. So that’s how they work, eh?
November 23rd, 2008 at 8:11 am
This one is such a sad comment on how easy it is to prey on the fears of others.
November 23rd, 2008 at 11:37 am
Nice statement, poetically put.
November 24th, 2008 at 12:43 am
I liked it, Rhian. Nice voice.
November 24th, 2008 at 1:36 am
Shams and frauds, every one; but not this poem: the real thing. Well done.
November 24th, 2008 at 4:25 am
Beautiful! Just beautiful!
November 26th, 2008 at 4:00 am
Ponderific read, one of my faves so far this month at EDPs, congrats and thanks!
R Jay