Illustration by Simone Williamson

Do you want to watch a documentary?

Poem by Katie Selbee

Our days
slip in
to each other’s.
Smooth like you,
they lean forward,
hesitate a moment and fold in
to themselves like wet paper coffee
filters and closing newspapers;
we can’t tell whose day is whose
anymore and I am here for too long
and you are back too early.
Standing around with friends
shuffling our feet, hands in pockets
we say we can’t remember
what we did
on the weekend.
In bed in the mornings,
your knee tucked behind my hip my
nose tucked under your ear,
we listen to rain; neither of us
in a hurry. Structures and
strictures and strategic realisms
sink into cotton sheets and I wake
full of poetry for the first time
in a year.