The Confession
She used to walk to school
the mile across the fields
from Salden, up where we found those salt-blocks
for the sheep to lick, and where we took
the hand-truck, for the wooding.
And one day, she said,
she buried a sixpence, thinking it would be fun
to find it on her return.
She never did. And when she’d speak of it
years on, she was back in her old home,
the kitchen steamy, siblings pressing round
– seven younger, trusting –
telling her mother.
Even now, remembering,
her voice would catch, her small eyes fill
with shame.
Page(s) 30
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