Madrid Light
by and published in Edition Four of Pomegranate
I was surprised to find
such bright white light
cut through my room
into day.
Watched as it forced the crystal
in my belly to disco
across the top slats of the bunk.
It was a strange sort of light
belonging to the Alps perhaps.
Not to Spain’s lime greens
and dusty yellows lingering
quietly on the right-angle.
It felt too crisp,
too candid
for the urban games
of kiss chase down the
escalator.
Somali’s ‘pssting’
hash in the park.
Louisa Michel
On graduating from Bristol last year, Louisa Michel picked up her pen to begin working on sketches she’d been gathering. Now at twenty-two she has just completed a poetry course with the Arvon Foundation, and is starting to piece together a first collection in Brighton.