How to measure space-time on summer holidays, by Britta Benson

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

This tanka is my response to the tanka Tuesday poetry challenge on Wordcraft Poetry. Here’s the full link: https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2022/07/05/tankatuesday-weekly-poetry-challenge-no-279-tastetherainbow-color-weather-poetry/

How to measure space-time on summer holidays

We drive 500 miles to get from the heart of Scotland to Dover. We take a ferry and then, we drive another 500 miles. Our journey starts in robust denims, long sleeves and jumpers, just to be safe. By the time we hit the south of England, my cardigan, stubborn remnant of winter, has long gone into the boot and even the sea breeze on the Channel cannot stop our the sleeves of our tops from curling up, bit by bit, in a slow, premeditated reveal, suspense and all. The moment we reach France, our cheeks glow rosy, then ruby red, and the mercury keeps rising as we belt through Belgium. Into Germany we thunder. Hotter still. We sit in not much more than flimsy lycra swimming gear, sweltering, boil in the bag humans, roasted inside our tiny car like a novelty Sunday lunch. Our skin turns from almost blue and translucent, the trademark Scottish palest of pale, to a nice, healthy pink, and then, in a seamless manner, keeps going towards the more alarming shades of red. Not so much a rainbow of colours… This is the colour scheme of blood, crimson and cinnabar, no hue spared. Perhaps we should have stopped our trip somewhere near Birmingham, before the burn, but we feel unstoppable. Our holiday, a once in a life time journey to the centre of the universe. Bring on the heat!

Our front door snaps shut.

We, milky, iridescent,

drive towards summer.

Time, measured in fifty shades

of blush, cherry and garnet.

Advertisement