My Stranger

I never think about

   you anymore : not in the

   blue light of day // you

                                   have slipped, back to some

                                   recess to lie dormant - slow.

But the moon makes you

            solid all over // slight but

            steady it pulses

                                    through you & with it

                                               you rise.

In this dreamscape I have carved

new paths between places

                       we knew together

                       & that knew us so wholly

You stand before me

            iridescent and I reach

            out but my bloodied

                                    bitten fingers shrink

                                    back up my shirt sleeves

Your form shudders : the colour

bleeding out // edges

                        indistinct just like

                        an old VHS tape where

                        a favoured  section's

                        been played & rewound

                                               over & over again.

When your lips part, out

                        silence spills before I hear

            your voice dancing - soft

            in-between the walls

            of my mind. And the walls once

           between memories

           & imaginings

           fall away & you are

                                   no stranger to me

                        now than you were then.

Bethany Aylward is a feminist researcher and mother who uses her writing to grapple with what those things mean.

Louise Evans is a graphic designer and illustrator living in Bristol. She is interested in socio- linguistic history and the physicality of books. She does design for The Grapevine.