Apron

the pocket is dark,crumby.in here lie ancient cakes, forgotten cookies,bread rolls, birthday icing. the never-washed linen, pouch ofmemories, of years laughter lovetight around my neck,broken tie restretched,resewn again.first knots made, later undone'round your expanded middle,sunken it carriedme in sagging pocket,a joey licking spoonswith floured sticky sugar smiles.and laterI adopt the ties,and stiff with age andancient … Continue reading Apron

Mrs McNally’s Garden

It started with a pair of gumboots. My neighbour of ten years, Mrs McNally, planted bright red geraniums in each one, then got Mr McNally to nail them to their front fence. I watched him do it while I was mowing the lawn. They were bright and charming, those gumboots, with their scarlet polka dots. … Continue reading Mrs McNally’s Garden