Mark Gilbert

Dear Lorna,

Today I slid down this ravine,
Sailing on crystal marbles,
A mile down I'd say,
And it was cool,
But I tripped up or something,
Hit a rock or something,
And fell into the screaming stones
Like some dumb tourist,
Rolling, rolling in the red stuff,
Alone.

It didn't hurt.
We're like babies, we're young
And we don't weigh nothing up here.

This dude called Todd showed up.
Like, rescued me.
He looked like me, but shining white.
Turns out he's my brother, kind of.
Most of us are.
I told him to write you
But you know how it is.

Another pink dawn,
Another blushing sunset.
This place gets under your nails.
In your eyes your socks and your hair.
You get used to it.
Up here we're one big family.
We do what we do
Clung to this rusted island,
Keeping our ashes from the dust.

Always,
Luke.

Mark Gilbert lives in Nottingham in the UK and enjoys being part of the Nottingham poetry scene (there is one). He writes poetry and prose but only the poetry seems to get published. Occasionally, sometimes accidentally, his scientific background influences his work.