it’s so easy to say
i’m so lost
the phrase slips out when i’m alone
in waiting rooms or by the lake,
i don’t understand the reflection of my face
in the reception window or in the water,
i’m so lost
is not the same as
i don’t know where i am
i know i sit in a blue chair or on green grass,
i know the bend of my legs,
i know each inescapable breath of this little body, but
the receptionist pops out to say
go through
and i’ve already gone without knowing,
i’m by the lake in waiting rooms,
staring at my own face and wondering
i’m so lost,
is not the same as
this can’t be real
but it’s close
the door of the doctor’s room
holds a name I don’t know, and
there’s no pill that says
i know you
and you’re found
Amy Wolstenholme is a scientist by day and a poet by night, originally from the beautiful Jurassic Coast. Whether slicing up a genome or carving out a stanza, her work comes from a place of awe and love for the natural world. Her recent works can also be found in Visual Verse, Crow & Cross Keys and in several places on the Young Poets Network. She can be found at @AmyWolstenholm3 on Twitter.