Dive
I want to turn my room upside down.
Twelve, thirteen feet above me
a pale blue sea of ceiling –
the afternoon throws yellow light
into a blank corner.
I’m spreadeagled on the wide chair
revel in the space up there
cool and calm, only one pale lightshade
in the very centre.
If the ceiling was underfoot
I would jump from the mantlepiece
into the foam
or run from the bay of the sofa
catapult into the vast cobalt.
The sky through the high window –
a deeper blue.
I’ll crest the fine sparkles of glass
swim as far away as those curled waves of cloud.
Twelve, thirteen feet above me
a pale blue sea of ceiling –
the afternoon throws yellow light
into a blank corner.
I’m spreadeagled on the wide chair
revel in the space up there
cool and calm, only one pale lightshade
in the very centre.
If the ceiling was underfoot
I would jump from the mantlepiece
into the foam
or run from the bay of the sofa
catapult into the vast cobalt.
The sky through the high window –
a deeper blue.
I’ll crest the fine sparkles of glass
swim as far away as those curled waves of cloud.
This poem is copyright (©) Alison Campbell 2024
About the Writer
Alison Campbell
Alison loves reading poems and stories to her grandchildren (seven and four years) and they in turn love choosing books from the library to bring home. They also love writing and drawing in their notebooks.