Freya and Od, by Jessica Mayhew

Danae, by Gustav Klimt (Austria). 1908.

Freya and Od
​
Waiting, I’m never where you’re not,
sitting in the window square,

sun glinting off the snowbroth.
Why shouldn’t this tinselled patch

be your side of the bed at dawn,
that tree root your foot,

seeking air from under-sheet?
It is nearly our hour

and we are plummeting towards spring.
You have pulled me into season,

the blossom bud-hearted,
earth wet-black with last year’s leaves,

death, everywhere. A plane frets
the branches. Something is always

leaving, like your name,
falcon-feathered, rising in me by degrees.

Jessica Mayhew

Jessica Mayhew is the author of two pamphlets, Someone Else's Photograph (Crystal Clear Creators, 2012) and Amok (Eyewear, 2015). Her poetry, short stories and essays have been published in journals such as Ambit, Stand, Magma and The Interdisciplinary Literary Studies Journal. Jessica has given readings at Lyric Lounge Northampton, the Leicester Shindig, and Smack the Poesy. She has also read from her pamphlets at the Nottingham and Ledbury poetry festivals, as well as in London.