Poetry: glow by Laura Tavasse

glow

there’s a portal in the kitchen

where the street lights

throw

a rectangle of orange

onto the wall. it must be the one

the smell of sweet tea

takes her through

into a warm living room

with a fireplace

and a patterned

rug

and maybe her mother on the sofa,

reading the newspaper

her feet on the small table with

those colourful socks

she used to love as a

kid.