[ as if } sunflowers

seen from above
those yellow runners

heading off without

without
your granddaughter you
smile so crookedly when she kisses

save it up for after
for that cold house

she wraps red and white tea
towels across
her heart

takes the edge off

JUNGLE JUICE shouts across the traffic
skirted in woven mat

memory lead astray by weather

jungle stares across the Channel

somewhere it is the dead of winter

[ as if } time

wears red hair

always in transition from one state to another
always in denial

middle aged dentist who can’t let go
reaching out
with her unfree hand

waving around a small mirror
trying to get a fix

either way
backwards or forwards

 

[ as if } this red car

this red car
this red car
this red car
this red car
this other car
this red car
this red car
this other

side by side staring out the empty screen of sea
doors banged shut
and locked
steering wheels unturned
all the windows bleared had
nothing more to say

[ as if } this / she had

-patricia reid