Four poems by Elspeth Wilson

A selection of haunting poems from Too Hot to Sleep author

This month we are graced with a selection of four poems from Elspeth Wilson, a Scottish writer and poet with an interest in how we live in our bodies and how we make them homes. Her debut poetry pamphlet, Too Hot to Sleep, is published by Written Off Publishing and was shortlisted for the Saltire Society’s 2023 Poetry Book of the Year. Her debut novel, These Mortal Bodies, is forthcoming with Simon and Schuster in 2025. You can find her on Instagram @elspethwrites. 

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Four poems by Elspeth Wilson

A note from the poet:

I'm really interested in exploring the body as a site of hauntings and these poems come from a series I am working on which explores the/my body and its ghosts. This perhaps most obviously applies to pain and trauma that can haunt the body, as explored in the poem 'Phantom'. But it can also apply to joyful experiences too - when we experience pleasant deja vu or nostalgia for a happy moment or a smell reminds us of a loved one, is that not also a kind of haunting? A way of something stored within the body to escape its silence and render itself visible under certain conditions? These are the kinds of questions I have tried to explore and hope to keep exploring as I work on this series further.

Phantom 

They come at night,

in the morning, when my teeth

feel furry with too much 

sugar, when I think they’ve gone.

No one else can see or feel

them which makes people

- even the ones who love me - think

I must be lying. Without a tangible

truth, I am something less sexy

than an enigma, something less

puzzling or intellectually stimulating

than a medical marvel. They come

when I’m trying to go for my last

pee. When I want to turn in my 

sleep. When I am trying to look hot

at a party in front of a boy who once

fancied me. They come 

and they don’t stop. They don’t care

that no one else believes 

in them. They believe 

in themselves.

Chant against sharp rocks underfoot

After Mervyn Morris 

Say ow   no   scream it   say I’m not

           going to be small 

any longer   bleed    red    taste

       your own     salt      mixed

with  the sea               sing

yourself  sing existence sing 

            siren songs

say no   no     no      no

take up space        take up 

kickboxing     say I don’t want 

          to talk  

                             to you

taste red     sunsets    lollies 

say I’m going 

               swimming 

                          goodbye

Chant against riptides

After Mervyn Morris 

Scream no  

                 scream I won’t let you

do this                  taste salt

               taste blood 

taste determination   smell fear

lick it off your own skin    taste

apple pie  lime pickle 

        say family     say no 

say yes   know they can’t have 

that piece of you 

      hear land 

              hear survival

hear hope 

Banshee

I am jealous of someone who can scream so loud, who can be heard so clearly, that it makes her a legend. It makes her feared.