Child of my womb, the house is full of you.
You, and your demands.
You, giving it the I want.
Nothing is still;
you spit words at me,
and Pokemoncards mock me,
from the bedroom floor.
I pick laundry; pants tangled in little men’s
grey school trousers. You always forget.
The garden fence,
battered by unyielding tennis balls. Then the school run. We come
and go, talking. Your questions; incessant.
I lock the bathroom door and long for silence.
I knew of mothering: the best job in the
world. But not of this other thing, this feeling
of smothering each day. Heavier.
This is the wit’s end. It will not speak up.
I play with words on the page;
to redefine me,
but you muffle my thoughts; staring expectantly.
Clambering all over me.
This is the inside of the nest.
And I’m about to fall.
And then what …
Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana trained with the Guildhall School of Music and Drama and has enjoyed poetry all her life. She was shortlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize, 2018, and her work has been published in print and online in Silver Needle Press, Newcastle University’s Bridges anthology, Typishly, Eunoia Review and Snakeskin and is forthcoming in Streetlight Magazine. Alexandra relished the opportunity to read at Crossings, Newcastle-Upon-Tyne Poetry festival 2018, and will read at the AWP conference, as a delegate of Silver Needle Press, in March 2019.