which is dedicated to Rosie Garland
In 2019 I took a massive personal leap of faith and drove alone, all the way to Leeds. For three days in July I was a part of the inaugural (and sadly only) Mslexicon to date (run by Mslexia magazine). I suspect COVID had a lot to do with this being the only one.
There were a lot of things that happened in those three days which I learnt from. The one that changed me most was a practical session on performance skills facilitated by Rosie. I will never forget that first meeting. She altered so much in such a short space of time.
Aphelion is an astrological term, for the point in the orbit of a planet, comet, or other body most distant from the Sun. When I discovered Rosie’s work I was a very long way from my own bright centre. The orbit I now keep is regular and increasingly precise.
This is the woman whose advice got me invited back for Open Mics. It is her flamboyance and intensity that often light the darker spaces of existence. Sometimes, a journey only needs one highlight to be memorable. Everybody should have a hero like Rosie.
This poem was published by Yaffle Press in 2023.
Aphelion
Each day, I dreamt I was that person
who in a breath defied redefinition
or maybe, better metaphor, unsettled
redefining, true defiance, set afire
all this, was first, resistance to submission
as dreams, had been, for me, a clever
lesson, allowing unrestricted access to that
Universe I couldn’t quite approach, just yet.
Persistence, for the longest time, keeping me
away, hiding the keys, explaining it with ease
all too politely, your aura that remains this
‘difficult’, needs at first to be addressed
ensuring that reality remained a map, someone
else, apparelled: I could not expect to access,
to win funds, to use it, to be free, until sufficient
penance, fully, had been seen to be extracted.
How far away they pushed me, how long
they taunted with a prize, how many
moments lost in darkness, furthest point a
mind was forced to hide, hurtled away, was never
punishment, it never worked, I’ve burnt it all
and I woke up, so now you’re fucked, for
here’s the all-consuming comet trail of blood, gushing
in defiance, impacting the ground, destroying all.
Poem copyright S. Reeson © 2026
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