Chicken Soup

 
photo by Melissa Reid

photo by Melissa Reid

Sat across from you in my dark cold flat you talk about Ska and Sondheim, legs kicking off the stool and mine firmly planted
and I hug my bowl of soup tighter and tighter and you look brighter and brighter and lighter and lighter and lighter and lighter...

You're light.
The yielding yellow warmth like a bowl of chicken soup with knodel,
fat flecks on the top of golden broth.
From the moment anyone sees you
like just the merest touch of your pupils can suffuse joy across acres of cold skin.
You soar warm across myriad constellations too far away to burn but just close enough to nurture
You're just. Right.
Kepler 221bravo- you're in everyone's Goldilocks zone.
You dance fixedly while supporting the life around you
maybe
weightless
airless
breathless
elliptical ellipsis even effusive
you're emphatically empathetic.
Even my rib-cage lifts and falls with the opening of your eyelashes.
Look at the sun!
The sum of your scraps and slivers and the strangers' lives you touch is greater than the galaxies of thought I will have to methodically unerringly specifically ploddingly
create.

I tattoo an anchor on my table to warn people that I cannot will not refuse to fly. There is value in being grounded. Or so I hope.


Hannah Raymond-Cox is in her 4th year studying International Relations and Modern History at the University of St Andrews. She's an award-winning feminist slam poet who cares deeply about food, trains, and memes long dead. From Hong Kong, San Francisco, and currently living in St Andrews, Hannah's sardonic poetry has made audiences around the world giggle nervously. She also makes a lot of challah (like a jewish braided brioche, particularly good with some marmalade at an argumentative brunch). She's winner of the Stanza Slam 2016, Hammer and Tongue National Slam Championship Finalist 2016, Other Voices Featured Poet 2016 and active member of St Andrews’ creative writing society Inklight. She's also obsessed with meringues.