A boy lay waiting by Zannah Kearns

Monday poem


A boy lay waiting

His parents count minutes
for six endless days. Cups of tea
cooling in every room, skin discs
sealing over like ice.

They hold hands on the sofa
as someone says: found
and body
and water.

A part of him still waits
under the lake.




Zannah Kearns’ has poems in The Dark Horse, Poetry Birmingham, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Atrium, South and Under the Radar. She was a recent winner of a Poetry Society’s Members’ competition; is part of her local Stanza group, and helps to run an open mic evening in Reading, The Poets’ Café.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s