We

are listening to The Neighbours fight,

Me and

You are sat on the deckchair leaning back to take in the heat and laughing, your mouth                                                          cracking open like two clouds splitting away to let a stream of sunlight fall out in uneven

              giggles which tumble out into the garden.

I am lying down on the ground not caring about the grass stains which will be sinking into the

              back of my white T-shirt

smiling at the sounds of content you are making.

The Neighbours

talk very loudly. They shout.

The Man has returned from America.

The Girl has made him pesto pasta.

‘I don’t even like pesto’

are the words which are followed by a door slamming.

Your giggles erupt into delighted chortles

and my smile breaks open into a laugh.

Beside us

in another brick house

joined onto yours

the one we see over the brick wall separating our grass from theirs,

The Neighbours are fighting.

I wonder if The Girl forgot he doesn’t like pesto.

Or if The Man used to and does not any more.

Or if when he was away he found something better than pesto and now can’t stand the sight of

             it.

Right now

in the garden

I am watching you laugh

but I am also watching our shadows -

the way they get chased up the brick wall as the sun sets, joining the ivy which creeps up over

           into their garden.

Daylight is melting away,

the night sinking into us.

Laura Jamieson

Laura Jamieson is an exchange student at NAU from England. Studying American Literature with Creative Writing, she enjoys reading about different cultures and exploring new places. Her passion for poetry stems from a love of Allen Ginsberg, and she often finds herself writing about specific events and people in her poetry. As well as a poet, Laura in an aspiring author who enjoys writing YA literature and short horror stories. When not writing, Laura can usually be found playing quidditch, and has spent the year competing with the NAU Narwhals.