Monday 1 April 2013

Mother


I shouted ‘milk!’
at the milk
but it didn’t
react
at
all.

I knew it well;
even what it
would become.
Still, it floated
white and flat
in a clear glass

chimney pot
on my black
and mottled
table top until
gulp-gulped, as nectar,
by a passing child of mine.

1 comment:

  1. John - I'm often here. Thank you for your work. It moves me often.

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