Fresh Air Poetry is A Weekly Online Poetry Journal - it aims to publish new exciting poetry From around the world.

A poem by Bethan Rees

A poem by Bethan Rees

The Mouth Where Water Meets

My legs; already flecked with the hairs of Autumn;
and those legs; that deftly scold themselves in
boiled frog bathwater become drumsticks of
sunburnt lobster red set beside cracked
porcelain doll.

Purple sprouts of varicose begin to wrap where
planned tattoos may have stained.
My frame; as brittle as stained-glass crumbles
back into sand.
And that frame; meets the longing to wash away
into the warm embrace of the Med; vacation
times Iā€™m yet to see as sea.

I know that I am to become foam but, unlike her,
my soul is a solid shard denied entry.
My legs; already flecked with the boring pain of
Autumn evenings;
and those legs; that creep into winter with pins
and

needles to sew purple sprouts of fabric against
planned tattoo prints.
A stained-glass shroud to hibernate.
My frame; as brittle as stained-glass crumbles
back into sand.
And that frame; meets the foam of a thousand
other souls who are already leg-years ahead of me.


Bethan Rees lives in Swindon, England with her partner, Reese and useless dog, Mitzie. She has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron, iamnotasilentpoet, Amaryllis, Atrium, Persephone's Daughters, Domestic Cherry and The Poet's Haven Digest. She is currently studying an MSc in Creative Writing for Therapeutic Purposes and hosts a Wellbeing Writing Podcast: "Let's Do Words". Please find Bethan on bethandoeswords.wordpress.com.

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