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Haworth Hodgkinson

Haworth Hodgkinson

Poetry 2007–2017

Poetry 2001–2006

Poetry 1996–2000

Poetry 1982–1995

© Haworth Hodgkinson 2006–2017


Haworth Hodgkinson


Don't be sitting up all night
waiting for a knock on the door.
That's not the way
I'll come for you.

And there's no need to lie
awake in your bed,
afraid I'll appear in your dreams.
That's not my style.

The truth is, I'm already with you,
testing your resilience
with a twinge in the chest
or a yank of the gut.

I can turn your own body to my ends,
make fabulous growths
that stifle and smother
with pincer constrictions.

These are the signs.
You'll try to ignore them,
hide them from friends and family,
but you'll know when I'm at work.

I'll be watching over you,
waiting for the moment
to bind your heart and lungs
with a firm squeeze.

But don't go worrying about it,
you'll not feel too much agony,
just a sense of freedom,
as we depart.

We'll leave behind
the body that was yours,
a smile of timeless bliss
caught in your frozen features.


Written 2015
Revised 2016

Published in The Granite Mile, 2017
(Castlegate Arts)

The Granite Mile

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