I’m in here darlin-’’ the carer said
taking books from the fridge,
moving black plastic bags,
sagged with eighty four years,
weaving a well worn path
through stacks of Good
Housekeeping magazines,
walls of empty jam jars, washed
 margarine tubs heaped
neat in readiness for cuttings
 from plants that remember the famine.
 ‘-you can get through here now darlin’
to your bedroom and the bathroom.’

Miss Sally Maguire, zimmer-framed
shopping trolley manoeuvring,
smiles, and thinks of driving,
 because she’ll be back at work
next week -she imagines proudly.
She’ll get rid of those-
carers’ who call her darlin’’
who wreck her bag organised,
placed, catalogued, filed, fond
memories, and cuttings:
at least two epics and a new century.
She’ll be back at work guiding
the present round the past.

1 comment:

  1. excellent poem susan,nice one i changed title and good house keeping mags hope you dont mind.