Poems from Frances Wetherall
Pen in hand
these words are mine
a blank page burns in the back of my mind
head spinning
ink spilling
that sweet slice of time
when it's...
My grandma read books and breathed in equal measure.
From the day I turned thirteen on, she took every opportunity to tell me how sexy my...
I flick through your pages until I find one I like.
I read it over and over again.
I eat it for breakfast,
Dream it every night.
Until,
I...
I would make little circles on your hands, scratch your arms up and down, braid and unbraid your hair until you fell asleep. I’d watch the...
Running through a forest I’d always dreamed of, the smell of the ocean but a few thoughts and footsteps away, I saw the dreads of my new...