the space between us
tamar betts cotton art
My studio is the space between you and I
It is the nanosecond in which I glance and meet your eye.
It’s the stranger in the street and my prediction of them as they walk by.
It’s the galleries, the museums the observatories and libraries.
It’s the squirrels, rats and everything living, the cages and containment of the binary.
It’s me hitting a vending machine when I have no idea what life is about to take me through.
It’s every time I fill my empty heart with a different substitute for you.
It’s the moment you smile and give me a rolley.
It’s you showing me the wooden mason hand in the building so holly.
It’s show me yours and i’ll show you mine 40 years after.
It’s when you say you’re kind and I burst into laughter
It’s the empathy for myself and you, we are no longer new.
It’s the time you spent inside and you shouting cunt in your sleep, how you affected you.
It’s the way he says year and how I wish I could catch it.
It’s the way he sits and eats breakfast on the grass, I don’t see this pit.
When he wears the long coat, and it blows in the wind like his heart conjured the storm.
It’s in the pavements, the petals, the windows and the clouds. in everything, in form.
It overwhelms me and bores me and demands my constant attention.
It’s big brother sitting in his office and designing my “correction”.
It’s her, her mum and dad lying through their teeth in a bid to ruin my reputation.
It’s listening to the bigoted outdated gentle persuasion of a hurt heart.
It’s shouting and screaming for joy with friends in the dark.
Its the crash of the sea in the cliffs all alone at 3am terrified by the power.
Its reading the paper and the feeling in my chest as in shame my spirit cowers.
Its them singing and dancing on the silver screen.
It’s me walking away because he could be there, when I should be seen.
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