overgrown. A poem by Laura Owens

my body / this strange new world
not much chance of a decent haircut
pray you don’t get a pay cut
or lose a livelihood entirely

gates around my estate remain open
rest of society “closed until further
notice” / like this wobbling
flagstone, tend to me- please

my daily walk / again this perimeter
smells of rich pollen mixed
with stinky kebabs / willows
tenderly brushing our scalps

simple acts now illegal / gathering
chums / squeezing our mums
annoying acts expected / queueing
walking in the road

courtyard with two tone tree / half
looking forward / an uncertain end
half longing for times past / oh,
to see torso, hips and legs again

stubborn greenery undeterred by
robust wire fence / yesterday I lifted
my arms above my head / a whole
new forest had sprouted there


Laura Owens writes from a small apartment in Oxford, UK, and animates characters in videogames for a living. She has upcoming or published work in perhappened mag, Detritus, and ang(st) zine’s Distanced project. When she isn’t animating or writing, you’ll find her with crochet hook in hand, or tweeting @laurabethowens.

1 Comment

  1. Nice one, Laura. We are all having strange and different relationships with our bodies these days. You have captured it!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.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