09-17-2015, 08:04 PM
"Go quick! Get something while Mum's gone!".
Your fingers dipped and disappeared,
producing 20p from that worn, old, plum purse.
Seat-belt unbuckled I scuttled into Blacks Newsagents,
returning with a hoard of tart, emerald, apple Frosties.
We sat then, holed up in the sweet hush,
sucking the spoils like gleeful pirates.
We stayed tight-lipped through the scolding too;
our harmless defiance of daughter and mother
drew all of us closer to one another.
That day’s giveaway scent mingled
with Gordon’s and Channel and hinted to me
of your presence for years thereafter.
It was lost to lavender and ageing orange
the evening I was led, one of the cousins,
down to where you lay, to say hello.
My hand clutched gently in vanishing light
at the sudden onset of mid-winter night,
you inquired of my behaviour, schooling and sports.
When you'd tired I stood to go, hugged,
said I’d see you soon.
"Not as soon as I'd like", you replied,
eyes puddling with pride,
words and embrace wavering
from the strain in your back.
It was broken in the attack of the wretched man.
You refused his demand, so he cursed
and wrenched your purse, stripping you of eighty cents,
a tattered tube of Frosties; the last of your resilience.
It was incense when next I saw you.
Portrait propped atop the box,
smiling irreverently
on the elegant and black-clad snuffling past.
I'm glad only the adults travelled
to have you burned and scattered.
"When dead", you'd said, "timing of presence
is no longer a relevant factor".
Original
Your fingers dipped and disappeared
to produce two 20p's from your worn plum purse.
"Go quick! Get something while Mum's gone!"
Seat-belts unbuckled we scuttled
into Blacks Newsagents, emerging
with a hoard of tart, emerald, apple Frosties
to share with you.
We three sat then, in sweet hush,
sucking the spoils like gleeful pirates,
and sat still, tight-lipped
through the scolding;
all the closer for taking it together.
The sharp-sugary giveaway scent of that day
mingled with Gordon's and Channel and hinted to me
of your presence for years thereafter
until it was lost
to lavender and ageing orange,
the evening I was led, one of the cousins,
down to where you lay to say hello.
My hand clutched gently in vanishing light
at the sudden onset of mid-winter night,
you asked of my behaviour, school, sports and such.
I relayed comings and goings; neither of us
focused on the comings too much.
When time for a younger hello
I stood to go, hugged and said I'd see you soon.
Stupidly. "Not as soon as I'd like." you replied,
words and embrace wavering
from the strain in your back
broken in the attack of the wretched man
who wrenched your purse from you;
eighty cents, a tattered tube of Frosties,
the last of your resilience.
It was incense when next I saw you,
inclined and elevated atop yourself
smiling irreverently
on the elegant and black-clad snuffling past.
I was glad only the adults travelled
to have you burned and scattered.
You’d never have acknowledged
that journey really mattered.
Your fingers dipped and disappeared,
producing 20p from that worn, old, plum purse.
Seat-belt unbuckled I scuttled into Blacks Newsagents,
returning with a hoard of tart, emerald, apple Frosties.
We sat then, holed up in the sweet hush,
sucking the spoils like gleeful pirates.
We stayed tight-lipped through the scolding too;
our harmless defiance of daughter and mother
drew all of us closer to one another.
That day’s giveaway scent mingled
with Gordon’s and Channel and hinted to me
of your presence for years thereafter.
It was lost to lavender and ageing orange
the evening I was led, one of the cousins,
down to where you lay, to say hello.
My hand clutched gently in vanishing light
at the sudden onset of mid-winter night,
you inquired of my behaviour, schooling and sports.
When you'd tired I stood to go, hugged,
said I’d see you soon.
"Not as soon as I'd like", you replied,
eyes puddling with pride,
words and embrace wavering
from the strain in your back.
It was broken in the attack of the wretched man.
You refused his demand, so he cursed
and wrenched your purse, stripping you of eighty cents,
a tattered tube of Frosties; the last of your resilience.
It was incense when next I saw you.
Portrait propped atop the box,
smiling irreverently
on the elegant and black-clad snuffling past.
I'm glad only the adults travelled
to have you burned and scattered.
"When dead", you'd said, "timing of presence
is no longer a relevant factor".
Original
Your fingers dipped and disappeared
to produce two 20p's from your worn plum purse.
"Go quick! Get something while Mum's gone!"
Seat-belts unbuckled we scuttled
into Blacks Newsagents, emerging
with a hoard of tart, emerald, apple Frosties
to share with you.
We three sat then, in sweet hush,
sucking the spoils like gleeful pirates,
and sat still, tight-lipped
through the scolding;
all the closer for taking it together.
The sharp-sugary giveaway scent of that day
mingled with Gordon's and Channel and hinted to me
of your presence for years thereafter
until it was lost
to lavender and ageing orange,
the evening I was led, one of the cousins,
down to where you lay to say hello.
My hand clutched gently in vanishing light
at the sudden onset of mid-winter night,
you asked of my behaviour, school, sports and such.
I relayed comings and goings; neither of us
focused on the comings too much.
When time for a younger hello
I stood to go, hugged and said I'd see you soon.
Stupidly. "Not as soon as I'd like." you replied,
words and embrace wavering
from the strain in your back
broken in the attack of the wretched man
who wrenched your purse from you;
eighty cents, a tattered tube of Frosties,
the last of your resilience.
It was incense when next I saw you,
inclined and elevated atop yourself
smiling irreverently
on the elegant and black-clad snuffling past.
I was glad only the adults travelled
to have you burned and scattered.
You’d never have acknowledged
that journey really mattered.