A poem by Ceinwen Haydon
One Man, Two Women
In the fuzz of near-dawn, I mistake
the mound of her belly for yours.
In a daze-dream, I stroke you both –
un-severed from either by forced choices.
In the half light, you are joined, hip to hip,
two lovers in one cherished form.
Held, suspended –
I fight wakefulness,
scared to face the truth of daylight’s likely losses.
I wake aroused by you
and know you feel her in my skin,
just as my raised scars are shared with her.
What have you done in my name, sweetheart,
to play the brave new lover? Cut the cord,
knotty and veined, that bound you to her – your wife
my spirit sister: her hand slips into mine,
our fingers entwine,
together we’ll escape from your divisive life.
[an earlier version was published as ‘Triangle’ in Blue Nib]
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK. She writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and print anthologies. She was Highly Commended in the Blue Nib Chapbook Competition [Spring 2018], won the Hedgehog Press Poetry Competition ‘Songs to Learn and Sing’ [August 2018] and was shortlisted for the Neatly Folded Paper Pamphlet Competition, Hedgehog Press [October 2018]. In 2017 she graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University and she is now developing practice as a creative writing facilitator with hard to reach groups. She believes everyone’s voice counts.