Like many Renfrewshire poets Heather Gibson was born in Thornhill Hospital, Elderslie. She spent much of her childhood abroad, either in Kent or in the Middle East, this left her with a peculiar accent and a complete inability to understand much of the West of Scotland way of life. A scientist by nature, she is currently studying for a degree in Geosciences with the Open University. She also came to poetry through a class run by Donny O'Rourke.
Love Falling in love sounds like a good idea Like squirming into soft pillows after a mouthful of chocolate and strawberries And a good cold Sauvingon-blanc Suddenly you will belong to the beaming advert worlds Of smiling two-somes bouncing on sofas and other soft furnishing Then you are in love and your skin isn't your own anymore. It wears someone else's fingers You can't remember what day is it but you can Remember to the number of seconds the time He called. Time either tears past so fast you can't catch it Or trips you up as it lies down and will not move You crave His presence And if you can't have it You crave cigarettes And you don't smoke You're aching and If it isn't from too much sex it's from too little Either way You're fucked. |
