A FLOOD

Debbie Robson

It is, at this moment, a slow drip,

drip, drip, barred behind a wooden

gate, the wood old, breaking away

in flakes, the iron in intricate swirls,

whorls, crusting. Barely holding back

a torrent. The timber now is dark,

sodden. Please pull back the bolt,

jam it open, say the word and I will

let flow a torrent of kisses to drown

you and burn the gate to cinders.

Debbie Robson has been writing poetry since the 1990s. She has performed some of her poems on radio, at Sydney poetry events, in the Blue Mountains and more recently as part of the Women of Words project in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. She has also been privileged to have one of her long poems performed as part of the Southern Highlands Art Festival.