Small by Rosie Sandler

When the world became too big

she retreated to her garden,

made a cave from living willow

and curled inside it.

As it grew, she was lost in thicket.

She wove herself a chrysalis,

attached it to a twig.

When she hatched,

she was anaemic and yellow

as dying leaves.

She curved inside a shell

but the sea called her name

night after day after night.

She stretched out

on the taut film of the pond,

watched the world in miniature below:

ooze-crawling nymphs,

whirligig beetles,

a newt quick and slow as the foxtrot.

Her breath bubbled

light as a water boatman,

glided past lily leaf.

She became a wisp of algae,

sky’s refraction,

a two-way mirror

with nobody looking in.

Rosie Sandler

casino truc tuyen mien phiRosie Sandler

Rosie Sandler’s poems have been published in (among others): ‘The Poetry of Sex’ (Penguin), ‘The Emma Press Anthology of Dance’, the ‘Aesthetica Creative Writing Annual 2016’, and ‘Writing Motherhood’ (Seren, March 2017). Some of her poems appeared on Carolyn Jess-Cooke’s Mental Illness blog for ‘Mslexia’. She lives near Maldon in Essex, with her supportive husband and their two sons – who (she’s not proud to admit) have had to coax her through some of her worst moments of anxiety. Rosie hosts a resource site for poets: Her own site:
Rosie Sandler

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  1. Bravissima. A beautiful poem. Something about it makes me think of Theodore Roethke and his line, “Ye littles, lie more close…”