Melissa Ridge is a spoken word poet based in Dublin. She has performed at festivals in Dublin, Galway and London, as well as competing nationally and internationally, representing University College Dublin at the international inter-varsity poetry slam Unislam in England in January 2017.
Only she could have given herself a scar with the serrated edge of a clingfilm box.
She would slip eggs from the fridge into the pockets of her dressing gown and roll them in her palms on Saturday mornings,
The kitchen was the split between two oceans when they merged – you could see the currents shift as they crashed together.
“Will I get the pan from the washer?”
“We’re out of eggs”, she says.
you put the fun in funeral decorations
after seeing you
it’s that dead buzz after birthday parties
a funeral for deflated balloons
talking to you,
looking for spoons, at work
but there’s nothing but forks
on the draining board
being with you
reminds me of so many things,
warm damp towels, wet with sweat
snaggly toenails, caught in cotton socks
you’re the hole in my sole
letting in all the rain.
you’re a blockbuster film
stellar cast and no plot
long gone, but I still miss you.
you’re so cold.
and ice, looks so pretty,
but only from a distance