Time out and a poem.

Money - it's just wampum, beads, dried fish or stones. One portion of my advance has been spent on two weeks alone in a small hut with no access to the Internet, in a beautiful garden. I shall take a pile of books, a few bags of foodstuffs, my favourite pillow. Walking boots, anorak, warm hat. A bottle of red wine or six. After one scheduled call on Tuesday from my copyeditor, I shall put my watch in a drawer.
I will leave a poem by Aneliya Siderova*, in the meantime, borrowed from that fine place, Ink, Sweat and Tears.

Bridges

On Thursdays I cross the bridge over the railway
On Fridays I cross the river bridge

On Saturdays, there are no bridges to cross.

* Aneliya Siderova is Bulgarian and lives in London. She would like to be a teacher but works as a cleaner. She has been writing poetry in her native tongue for some years and Bridges is her first poem in English.


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