Something is wrapped about me
that prevents me from writing
what I have to say.
Like a thin coat of ice,
an invisible frozen layer,
even around my head.
And you stand
on the other side of the ice
these four years,
Tapping at it,
melting a hole in it
with your breath.
I want to know what I can do
to meet your gentle insistence
from the inside.
Perhaps take a warm shower?
If it
helps Hilary Mantel,
Surely it can help me?
I want to emerge
into the world’s air,
whatever it might be.