Eileen Carney Hulme
Digging for Karma
The colour of the caravans
is not important, it’s a distraction
as she counts back years
she has failed to find the bits
of heart that must be mashed up
in the soil, trampled over by the rainbow
feet of laughing children and strong
women who never breathe out loss
or walk in shadows
she is digging but her fingers bend
as straws, sucking up the memories -
liquid scents of one summer
and she wants it back, wants it
now, summer in her eyes, in her
nose and in her mouth
someone asks if he can help
has she lost something,
as she digs in silence
words take shape in her
fingers bleed, limbs finally
broken, weighted with summer.
Page(s) 37
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