Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Clare Crossman

print this page

Echo

Becoming more like her I begin to notice
small things. How dust collects and sheets
wear out, the need for lists. There is
grey in my hair and my hips are thickening.
I hear myself using her phrases, keeping
rubber bands, saving pennies for stamps.
 
My mother who straightened cushions,
hoovered all the rooms, echoes in me
from somewhere deep inside
as I pick up the phone when it rings late,
call 'Be careful' to children when they climb trees.
 
In summer we picked sweet peas,
ordinary and everlasting. Their paper petal wings
and lipstick colours made it seem easy to
be growing up. We filled bowls with them,
scented rooms with their promise of romance.
 
These things about her stay with me:
collecting apples in the orchard, visiting
bluebell woods, the adventure of an afternoon in town.
Beyond belonging in the house, a chance
to see our breath; drink in the light and air.
 
I walk now, where her footsteps went
along the corridors, into the garden.
The keeping of the seasons always falling to us
and all the details, which make a kind of home.

Page(s) 55

Back to top