Moving on is 50 over the limit on a snow-covered
remembering I have children. It’s dyed hair,
and a tattoo, and poems
written in the dark. Or in the bathtub. Like
Moving on is dropping weight, getting surgery,
sugar, running a 15K. It’s sitting an extra
five-minutes in the car park
to cry, before going home.
Moving on is a bustling twitter feed. A website,
a brand, too many
projects. Travel across France. It’s more
lovemaking, more bedtime
stories, more cuddles, more crafts.
Moving on is grieving, telling myself that
you are the worst kind of dead to me.
It’s knowing that you’re the kind of dead
that isn’t dead at all.
Elizabeth M Castillo is a British-Mauritian poet, writer and language teacher. She lives in Paris with her family and two cats. When not writing poetry, she can be found working on her podcast or webcomic, pottering about her garden, or writing a variety of different things under a variety of pen names. She has words in, or upcoming in Selcouth Station Press, Pollux Journal, Authylem Magazine, Fevers of the Mind Press, and Tuna Fish Journal, among others.