When the soil is November hard, no
warmer than March – darker than days done
search for me in the undergrowth; dig
your nails deep into the grieving earth
and bury yourself – to hibernate
away from the harrows and hoards, un-
til the world revolves in reverse. Wait
to be exhumed – sweet resurrection.
KC Bailey is a writer/poet from Northamptonshire (UK). When not writing, reading or walking her dog, she practices Tai Chi and drinks Earl Grey tea, though hasn’t yet mastered the art of doing both at the same time. Publication credits for poetry, fiction and non-fiction include Black Bough Poetry, Monkey Kettle, The Ekphrastic Review, CaféLit and the BBC. She is currently studying towards an MA in Creative Writing and can be found on Twitter @KCBailey_Writer.
