Barbican Young Poets 2019-20

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This poem is inspired by these words from Aja Monet:
“I know prayer is about speaking things into existence…
I know people say things they don’t always mean.”

Speaking Into Existence

2017- how to say we lost him one morning like the others.
He hadn’t phoned this time,
I couldn’t respond to his “I enjoy nothing” with full words,
didn’t know I’d never have to again.

2019- asked for justice, to stop speaking, get over it;
pixels fell apart spectating “something terrible”.

~

That day the email came in-
the CEO made tea with salt in by mistake.
My colleague said, “it’s sad, but things like this happen all the time”.

March- he walked with a stick around the lavender in our garden,
was allergic, had sickle cell;
he was waiting to hear back about his Work Capability tribunal.
After he died, I learnt his name means “come home” in Yoruba.

August- Dele’s death became clearer.
Coroner’s staff supposed,
“it would have been cremated because it’s cheaper”.

~

Anniversaries breathe monthly
often spin, sit-in still.
I hear the cusp of pain as physical,
look closely in the mirror to say, “I can see you, I can definitely see you”.

We think nearly 70000 thoughts a day, 90% the same as the day before;
swell these days into years.

2020- eyes can fill up so quickly,
living as four different people, notes empty.
I know that death can be defining,
with the words they left and the ways to disappear;
may we speak ourselves as found.

About Maeve Slattery

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Twitter: @maevesarah_