Hello, thank you for coming

Hello, thank you for coming,
the water’s over there.
Did you find your way ok?
Yes, of, course, the toilets
at the bottom of the stairs.

I sit down, forward then
back, remember dim things
about body language, but not
quite having the vocab.
I settle for switching
between them all. Dynamic!

I’m sure I used to be good at this,
with a brain that wouldn’t
let a question slip
slide right out of it.

I breathe and talk
and talk and breathe
until I’m nothing more
than a discordant bagpipe.

I imagine turning into
a flamingo, likes the ones
on my onesie that I’m dying
to wear. Tall, part of a flock,
eating prawns.

My pink plumage arranged
like a brilliant show girl.
Knobbly knees with
feet in the muck. Just lifting
my long neck down, then up.

The sun hits the water
and we all flutter,
sensing movement between
us, excitement builds, until…

Do you have any questions for us?
We’ll let you
know by the end of the week.

I pick the prawn from
my beak, strut off down
the street and wonder,
how many interviews
before the job gets me?

Bronwen is a woman living on the border of Wales and England which fits as she’s often in between things. She has worked as a dancer, goat farmer, recycler and mother. She now spends her time talking to young people in Bristol about their mental health for OTR. Her actual children only listen to her occasionally. Writing is one of the ways she keeps herself mentally well.