The Taking

We knew the soldiers were coming

Hid in our beds, no one to protect us

Goods on the shelf waiting to be stolen

Before, that day, we had lessons

Cursed algebra, embraced Shakespeare

Explored China, played tag outside

Fell out, made up, ate lunch together

Made apple pie, but not custard

Remembered the gender of French nouns

Now we are herded, our worth in flesh

We learn knots we can’t untie

How to stay still and hope they do not come

We wait to be rescued, damsels

In distress, hair out for climbers

Life asleep in the stomach of a wolf

I wrote this poem during writers’ group I seem to remember, but first had the opportunity to read it out at the Ted Hughes Conference: Dreams as Deep as England in Sheffield in 2015 to an academic and literary audience.

At some point I hope to blog my essay on men, violence and Sylvia Plath, as I have found the original hand written submission, but until then, here’s my poem.

(c) Rebecca Deans 2015