Judith Kingston
New Year's Eve
She still perches on the countertops
although the jokes I tell as I cook
are for you now, your smiles more like the
flour that billows up when I drop the fillet in
the bowl and less like the knife I used to fillet
the fish - you are you and I see you,
I value every part of you, more like the comical chime
of the utensils and less of the chilli
I should not have rubbed in my eyes -
I still smell her perfume in the next aisle and my heart
still skips a beat and I have to grip
your hand more tightly, blink the film
from my eyes again and once more,
I still have to turn away every day
but I am choosing, I choose to turn to you.
although the jokes I tell as I cook
are for you now, your smiles more like the
flour that billows up when I drop the fillet in
the bowl and less like the knife I used to fillet
the fish - you are you and I see you,
I value every part of you, more like the comical chime
of the utensils and less of the chilli
I should not have rubbed in my eyes -
I still smell her perfume in the next aisle and my heart
still skips a beat and I have to grip
your hand more tightly, blink the film
from my eyes again and once more,
I still have to turn away every day
but I am choosing, I choose to turn to you.
Enjoy Judith's poem performed and recorded on video below!
Biography
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Judith is a Dutch writer living in the UK. She specialises in unhelpful advice, nostalgia and mermaids. Her poetry has previously appeared in magazines such as Barren Magazine, Riggwelter, Kissing Dynamite and Ghost City Press. The latter also published her microchap Mother is the Name for God in their 2020 Summer Series. Most recently, her poetry has been published in Crossing Lines: an anthology of immigrant poetry (Broken Sleep Books). Find her on Instagram @judith_kingston.
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