Of Minor Significance by Laura Lewis-Waters
Sleek cylindrical curves, innate
warmth ready to spread,
switch down, the room
charged with static anticipation.
Unaware of your actions
you renew your duty, determined
to see it through.
Caressing the narrow
rectangular window, water
The frothy edge swells around my feet, I have a great disregard of bare feet.
When they sink with a sense of relief, the coral is bleached and my feet are secure
but my mind is not – it is lost and wandering deserted. I am patient, but
I once heard that time is water
It is you they all turn to,
during the breaks in the soaps.
You they rely on,
to warm a cold heart,
but they do not realise
you warm more than hearts
Maybe water is also time, staring through the condensated panes, overhead cirrostratus thread the sky and an atoll was threatened. The earth shifts and the water waist-high spills up the sand. Perhaps, like you, the sea is overfilled ‘wasting 3,500-something tonnes of CO2’. A fleeting glance at your compatriots – the hob and the microwave – but mother told me to beware of those
Your rumbles are louder now,
you begin to shake, throwing out
steam like it is nothing.
Laura is a keen traveller and environmental enthusiast from the middle of the Midlands. She has lived on three continents and has left behind a little writing in all three. Having previously studied Literature, History, Creative Writing and Volcanology, Laura has now combined something of each to study for her PhD at Loughborough University.