Hold Your Own by Kate Tempest Page A

in the rightness of doing things wrong.
     
    Give her a body that breathes deep at night
    That is warm and unending; as total as light.
     
    Let her live.
     
    Brighter every day
    That she was not so young and desperate.
    Bigger every minute
    That she settled all the restless
    Urges in her chest
    And when she woke from nightmares, breathless,
    She would piece herself together
    Like some relic found in ash and clay,
    A precious, ancient necklace.
     
    When she was complete again,
    She’d wolfwalk into town.
    And drink down every wave that came
    To break her spirits down.
    She was wild and wonderful.
    A star throughout the district.
    A red light dreadnought.
    Queen among misfits.
     
    And yes, sometimes they sneered
    When they glimpsed her in the gutter.
    It made her crack her knuckles,
    Shake her head and start to mutter
    To herself under her breath
    You posh pricks don’t know fucking shit.
    And they would look away
    And light their cigarettes and spit.
     
    She liked to giggle with the pretty boys and kiss the lonely addicts
    And weave exquisite curtains for the dismal little attics
    Where they lay their heads at night,
    Out of beads and string and plastic.
    Each corner she inhabited made warmer by her magic.
     
    She grew expert in the field
    Of love
    She learned to see and feel
    The deepest secrets lurking in
    The hearts of those who came to swim
    In her dark waters.
    She knew things.
    She knew Kings
    And she bore daughters.
    She knew love, she made her fortune.
    Till she met her match.
    Exhaustion.
     
    He was an older man,
    A man who liked to hold her hand
    A man who made her feel like she was rolling round on golden sand.
     
    A man as soft as any girl
    A man as hard as any luck.
    She understood what life was for
    Each time they bucked and came unstuck.
     
    True love takes its toll
    On souls
    Who are not used to feeling whole.
     
    They tangle limbs and feel the shudders,
    All the world is nothing.
    Lovers:
    Promising each other not to take the vital parts,
    While even as they mutter it, they’re giving up their hearts.
     
    It is a new moon
    In late May
    She gives way
    To his weight
    They are laid out flat by a lake.
     
    She can feel
    His blood in her veins.
    He can feel
    Her pulse in his wrists.
    And they kiss.
    And the moon hangs open and orange
    Like a wound in the mist.
     
    He asks her to marry him.
    Have him forever and never be lonely but only together.
    She thinks that he’s taking the piss.
    Throws him a scowl so sharp his darkest parts are shafted, blasted, ripped in half,
    She starts to laugh, she hits her palms
    Against the grass. He lifts his arms, I mean it
    Shining cheeks, his garments creased,
    Naked skin on cold damp heath. I mean it.
    Silence. Let it land.
    She cannot breathe or stand.
    She crawls towards him, smiling.
    Takes his hand.
    Of course.
    They kiss and both expand.
     
    She decides she must go back,
    Seek out a past.
    A mother, a father,
    Whatever she has.
    A blessing or something,
    Maybe an answer.
     
    She packs some things and leaves at dawn, alone.
    And heads out North. For home.
     
    By dusk she’s walking the woods of her youth,
    Smelling the air.
    Is this where I’m from?
     
    Who was I when I was here last?
    If this isn’t home
    Then where has home gone?
     
    She sees a small clearing between the trees.
    She’s rocks in a river.
    She’s leaves in a breeze.
     
    There is a shopping trolley
    There are some keys
    There is a hawthorn
    There’s a horse chestnut
    There’s a used condom
    There’s an old desk lamp
    There’s a nice conker . . .
    Is that blood or ketchup?
    Birds in the branches
    Light in the darkness
    Like sand in the toes of the bushes.
     
    There!
     
    Right there.
     
    There in the path. In the leaves and the bracken
    Two black backs untangle, dragons.
    Coupling, shuffling, grappling.
    She is staggering.
    Can’t stop looking. Strange unravelling.
    Something from before, something forgotten.
    Someone she used to be.
    Some rotten something in her darkest