I pray my hands together pointing up into the godless silence like an arrow the arrow I just yanked from my own ribs I'm not impenetrable
This poem arose from a poetry workshop. The exercise involved a mind map, and, well, arrows! February is the longest shortest month of the year and I seem to do a lot of staring. So, it’s good to remember that a poem can come together in a flash, fast. The workshop was part of the 2022 biennial Northumberland Festival of the Arts, and 2024 is another Festival Year!