Kingfisher
Non-uniform day Y2K, me in my New
Look, neck to sock in Tango orange
and bouclé wool, kingfisher blue.
In Art I learn that these are
complementary colours, designed to draw
the eye. I draw a kingfisher glittering
across a stream, then pore secretly
the pages of Just17 for the promise
of shimmery eyeshadow, a Tammy Girl top
to transform an ordinary girl. Feather cuts
frame the face, make the eyes pop. Vermillion-
dyed denim makes a statement.
In the sickly scent of the science lab I learn
refraction creates the illusion of colours,
the kingfisher brown, not blue. Still, I believe
in transformation, and on muted days
reach for bright colours, like fizzy
pop, like a blue flame, like sun.
**
Leave-taking
the lid for the twin-handled saucepan
but not the pan
the knife block, but not the knives
the whisky and the good wine
the laundry basket with its rattan sides
not your coaster with the cartoon face
or the armchair with its worn down seat
your keys, stuffed in a pocket, just in case
the black and white calendar and its red-circled days
the us, the ours, the we, the me
stitches that tethered me to here and now
the decade that slid out from under me, slowly
the star-shaped hole, still obscuring my eye
Amy Dugmore is a poet and copywriter from Birmingham, UK. Her poems have appeared in Propel Magazine, Atrium and Under Your Pillow anthology among others. You can find her on X @AL_Dugmore
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