‘That Thing In The Cupboard’ by Hannah Collins is our Poem of the Week
This week, we offer our congratulations to Hannah Collins, whose piece That Thing In The Cupboard has been chosen as Poem of the Week. On her profile, Hannah says ‘I believe poetry is best when shared’ so it seems completely appropriate to share her work with you today. We hope you enjoy it.
Here are her answers to our Q&A.
What inspired the poem ?
That big dark cupboard under the stairs ! Also however sophisticated we may think we are, we still have quite primitive feelings from time to time.
Do you feel your poetry has changed much since you started writing?
Yes, I am more conscious of getting the grammar correct and not waffling on too much!
Do you get out and about to open mic nights? Is there somewhere people can hear you read?
I don't get out to open mic nights but I would like to. Haven't come across any in my area. I have only recorded things in an amateur way for friends but would like to do more. Maybe on WOL.
You have four dinner guests (living or dead) to supper. Who would they be??
Harold Pinter. Claude Monet, Sylvia Plath and Alan Bennett.
That Thing In The Cupboard
by Hannah Collins
You know it's there
That thing in the cupboard.
You never want to tarry there,
In that big cupboard, the one by the stair
Because you know it's in there.
It's not exactly human
Or totally a monster,
It's somewhere in between,
It's very tall
With skeleton fingers that could tighten around your neck,
Could sneak up behind
And bring no good.
I hang my coat in there
And keep spare batteries on the shelf
And the Christmas wrappings
And some old cassettes I can never use now,
Things I should really throw out
Are stored in there.
And every evening I seem to have to go in there
For something . . .
I always make sure the cupboard door is closed tightly at night,
I usually check it twice.
One night I went in, the light failed
And the door swung closed
And I saw two red eyes . . .
Anyway, I've been living with the thing in the cupboard for a while,
It's been there as long as I can remember,
Just outside of my line of vision
But a constant presence.
It's always been there
Until yesterday evening . . .
I came home and the cupboard door was wide open
And apparently had been open all day
While the electricians re-wired the place.
Oh no !
I walked into the cupboard,
It had been open all day
And the thing was no longer there !
I could sense the change immediately,
The cupboard was bland, no atmosphere,
The thing had got out.
After all the careful years of keeping the cupboard secured,
The thing had got out,
But to where ?
And where is it now . . . ?