Tactile tablecloth Clung to the flimsy café table top Like a trauma; Still so warm – Like the skin Of some familiar Relative, long gone. The sunlight now drained, The heat remains in you; And yet – Cut off. That warmth goes up with the wind.
—Published 12th of February 2024
About Oliver Cuenca
Oliver Cuenca lives with his partner in Bristol, UK, where he works as a journalist to keep the lights on. In his free time, he writes poems. His favourite theme is the relationship between mundane, everyday objects and specific, often difficult memories and experiences.