This thing called Poetry Space

Two readings by Poetry Space poets yesterday and I started to write in prose what it meant and then a poem took over. This is for Sylvia Perry, for Beverley Ferguson, and for everyone in the audience yesterday at Foyles Bookshop, Bristol and St James Wine Vaults Bath, two very special events celebrating  A Kindness and Flowers in the Blood, both beautiful collections.

I wonder why
I started this thing called Poetry Space.
And then
an old lady in her hospital bed,
lost and confused
breaks her silence
and the bodies of the drowned
are looked for over and over again.
A tear falls,
and tiny fingers soft as silk
suture an open wound.

Susan Jane Sims