SusanFarrell

CUTTINGS

‘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.