‘Things Illness Stole’, a poem by Alex Reed

Things Illness Stole by Alex Reed

A beery dance to the B52s in that club down the Quay, then all the way back to your place in the west of the town we talked, afraid if we stopped we might see one another anew, with appraising eyes, the spell broken, but I knew it had held when my hand touched the curve of the small of your back and we came to the stairs, your unmade bed, vintage dresses scattered all across and your beads and sparkly tat strung over the mirror on the old chest of drawers you bought from the auction, and then the final mystery of you in the bathroom as I waited with one last smoke, and I saw that across the mirror you’d scribbled with scarlet lipstick, everything’s going to be alright.

Alex Reed is a family therapist, and carer for his partner who has multiple sclerosis. His poetry is concerned with themes of illness, loss and acceptance.


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