Tuesday, June 30, 2020

The Stranger Turned To Me

I looked up from what I was doing

and saw you in the park, and asked you

who you were waiting for

and you turned and as you turned

we found ourselves at our wedding

and I turned to you to say,

"Wait, what-"

and you turned to me and we were in a house

with pictures of us on the walls and I turned to you

and you said

"Who are you?" and I said

"Who am I? Who are you and what's going on-"

and you turned to me and our children

ran past us and the girl held onto my legs, laughing

and you turned to me and

my back began to ache and I caught the reflection of myself

in the mirror and my hair was starting to grey and I

turned to you and you had tears in your eyes

and you said, "Stop, please, stop," and I held your hand

and said, "I'm sorry, this isn't me, I'm not doing this -" and you

turned to me, at our boy's graduation and rested your head

against my shoulder and said, "How is this happening?" and I could not answer

but your head felt good against my shoulder, even if

it was my mother's funeral and I

turned to you in the empty house while we waited for one of them to call

and said, "If I had known, I would never have-" and you turned to me

as I turned to you

as you turned to me in the hospital bed, holding my hand

holding your hand, you turned to me and I turned to you

and I bent my head down and kissed you

and kissed you

and kissed you

for what will always feel

like the first time

and I turned to you.

Friday, May 22, 2020

What We Should Do When This Is Over

Dear You,  

I'm writing to let you know that the second book in my short-book project is out. It's called What We Should Do When This Is Over and it follows an old man and a young boy as they try to navigate a world in which no one goes outside anymore and normal seems very, very far away.  

I wrote this book, with illustrations by my good friend and artist Rikus Ferreira, to deal with my own anxiety about the pandemic and to talk about the mundane, everyday things that I miss. This morning, my 3 nearly-4 year old asked me if we could go to the beach and I had to try and explain, again, about the really bad cold that's going around and that's why we can't go to the beach. Or to the playground. In two weeks, I'm going to have to try and explain why she's not going to have the birthday party I know she wanted. And her birthday is the day after mine. Remember the world where someone would blow on a cake and we would all eat it? Everything feels so far away.  

Between days when I could accomplish nothing and nights when I can't stop working, I made this. The friends I've shared it with so far have responded positively to it and I hope my readers enjoy it too.  

You can buy a copy and read more here. 

I'll be doing some live readings on instagram and Facebook soon, so keep an eye out for those. 

Thank you for your time. I hope you're well out there and I send you my absolute best,  

Iain S. Thomas

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

The Time We Are Tested

If you’re alone, I am alone with you.

If you’re scared, I am scared with you.

If you need hope, I hope with you.

And I am everyone. And you are everyone. And we are all everyone we can be, in the moments we are given, in this time that we are tested.

Monday, April 6, 2020

Who You Were Before You Were You

This is my new book, the first in a series of short books that explore that human condition, what it means to be us, how we relate to each other and what loves means in all its different forms. It's self-published and I'm really proud of it, if you want to support it, you can buy it as an ebook here and in print by clicking here.

Monday, February 10, 2020

The Poem In The Water

You took my tongue, and so I wrote about love.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

The Starlit Hotel

There’s room in a starlit hotel for the people you miss tonight.

(I didn’t want to be good, I just wanted to be here.)

So you touch the star that only you can touch and cause the fuss that only you can cause.

(I am making things that don’t need to be made, to be sold to people that don’t need to be sold anything, anymore.)

And If you hold me I swear, I won’t shake too bad, I’ll try and be a little more calm.

(But I’m burning inside, just like the sky.)

What’s good, isn’t great, and who are you pretending to miss tonight?

(There’s no one and nothing left to cry about, so why don’t you go ahead and cry a little more about yourself.)

Thursday, January 9, 2020

The Other Side Of The Mirror

Some empty part of me heard you knocking from the other side of the universe, and I answered.