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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.

 

 

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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.

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