Monday, 19 February 2018

A poem by Emma Jenkins

Do You Stock it in Any Other Colour?

you are either sick or,
you’re not.
You’re either better or,
you’re not.’

So, depression is a newspaper.
It could also be a zebra.
Grazing, nibbling, running,
fast from
invisible lions.
It’s a blob of ink on a pristine


But it isn’t black and white.
It’s not even grey,
is it.


It’s a purplish wine stain
on a white work shirt.

It’s the mottled patchiness
of old skin.

It’s my paint brush water in
a small glass jar.

Regret, shame,
creation, pain.

Is that a colour or a shade?

Can I buy it in a tube?
Can I wash my canvas in it?

What if I go to Homebase?
And scan the home décor aisle,
could I find it in a drum?

I wonder what the name on the label would be.

‘Eggshell despair’
Subtle, cold overtones of,
Overtones of fear of
dying alone.
Hues of
‘I’ll be fine’

I’ll dip my brush in
that bucket.
Slather my walls in it, with
a sodden roller.

I’ll bathe in it.
I’ll drink it.

It’s so very becoming.

Emma, originally from London, currently lives and writes in a sleepy village nestled in the hills of Kent where she was fortunate enough to work alongside fantastic poets during her degree in Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Kent. Since graduating, she has been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to live and work in Japan, teaching children English through creative writing and poetry, while also learning about the art form of the Japanese haiku. Emma is hoping to begin a MA in creative writing in 2018.

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