Henry is a writer, poet and mental health essayist based in Somerset in the UK. He has a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Birmingham. His poetic novella, ‘Notes from the State of OMNESIA’ was published by Impspired Press.

The Trick with Gravity

I’m a bird.
I’m a drone.

I’m the helicopter 
above the beach
watching children  
write their names in the sand. 

I’m a microlite.
I’m a fly, 
making Metzinger shapes.

I’m a hot air balloon
floating,
and my head is swirling 
like a Turner painting.

I’m a soaring seed head
I’m a lonely leaf
I’m an iridescent blue dragonfly.

The trick with gravity is to stay afloat
and prevent your feet from being buried in the mud.

When the Bones of Your Nightmare Shine Through Your Skin

Last night you said you dreamt 
that you had removed a layer of skin 
so that you could see what was beneath. 
You said it was like scratching only better. 

You carry around your skeleton bones 
from the necropolis in the tissue bag 
and feel the acid throat and swollen tongue 
which is all part of your irregular existence 
chewing at the edges of time. 

You say that you are existing, 
like a sea full of floating rubbish, 
matched only by the boredom 
of an everyday melody. 

You call it hollow. 

Like when we chew on the bones 
of your latest nightmare.