Self-soothing. A poem by Gita Ralleigh

Locate a calm space within your head. Place a box dead
centre, one big enough to crawl inside. Wood is solid
cardboard will do. Take an unlit stick of incense. A stone
smooth oval, palpable. Take a fist of animal wool, a pinch
of dried herbs, the hiss of rainfall. Birdsong of your chosen
bird. Take the dawn cries of children, their soft weight
on a hip, round heads cradled in shoulder’s dip. How
they call out in sleep to the moon on wakeful nights, fright
at the waves taunting small feet, sinking deeper into sand.


Gita Ralleigh is a writer, doctor & medical humanities student . Her pamphlet ’A Terrible Thing’ is forthcoming from Bad Betty Press. Find her on Twitter.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *