Barbican Young Poets 2019-20

     and on sunday you spoke to god     and he asked why you had given up on faith

but how do you tell the lord that his teaching has turned bitter

     that there is no joy in eating a meal    if you cannot take pleasure in the preparation

  and now you live closer to dying than survival      everything you touch cannot be felt

a certain numbness that erodes    where do your hands begin    you make no sudden movement

when you walk the ground thinks you’re a fallen leaf or a lost child     you’ve lost all strength

to reach the top floor without feeling breathless   perhaps this is the distribution they warned you of

but you are still pot-bellied with bug-like limbs

     and they will tell you it's easier to swallow and forget

       but everything inside you is the same

girls like you meet on a friday morning      sit in one room waiting for prayers

ask permission to the bathroom where everything is sterilised    and the walls have a funny charm

you smile at the holes    your hands    where water cannot be felt    an emptiness you search for

more than most things

    that is what lauren asks when you meet

      why is there this space that you wish to no longer take

     but you cannot tell this doctor    who you now think is god    that there is no point

in being who you are meant to be when you look different in every reflective surface

when you cannot pull away from each feature    and the stairs get further away

the more you try to meet the sky