For Rosie
By Emma White
the day I got the phone call I couldn’t help myself from noticing the weather, stepping onto a platform thick with forget-me-nots growing lilac and premature. rain feeding clear green bodies of water above the storm drains, dense hawthorn bushes expiring against the windows. the kind of spring where she’d be diving into unmarked fields, resurfacing with ticks on her fur and grass on her gums. drunk from the mist on her coat. the season of unfurling and here is grief again, the familiar collapse of threads when a world changes. my lungs give way to air like I’ve been holding my breath in the dark. two years ago we were on this street, my legs still damp from the ground, carrying Rosie in my denim jacket. I’ve always been standing on this side of the lens. my kitchen fills with steam. I can hear her breathing behind the birdsong. for all I know she could be sleeping in the next room.
Emma White
Emma is a playwright, dramaturg and poet. Her work has an understated lyricism and centres women’s voices. She is a BBC New Creative, her audio drama Pearl is currently part of Radio 4 Extra’s drama anthology. Her plays include Havisham (Theatre503, Omnibus Theatre, Columbus State University) and Ophelia (The Old Red Lion, Upstairs at the Western, Arena Theatre). Emma has previously written for Young Pleasance London, The Gap Young Theatre Writers and The Yellow Coat Theatre Collective. Her articles include ‘Nothing About Us Without Us’ focusing on the work of Clean Break for Women Theatre Justice, and she currently facilitates workshops with Trafford Libraries.
Photo credit: Noah Silliman
Apricot Press 