Philippa Collingwood
Street Life
In her crossover pinny
with her crossover face
Mum was every day sweeping:
sills and steps,
us out to play.
We’d fingermark squares
in the blue and white dust.
You trod on the line,
you’re out, I’m in.
When the men from the factory
came down the road
we’d shriek and run.
The Abominable Snowmen!
Footprints showed
which way they’d gone.
All-weather snow.
When it rained, the six inch
drifts in the corners
gave us handfuls to squish
for fights. Bliss.
Bless you!
Mesothelioma -
sounds like somewhere nice
to go on holiday.
Mum went.
Page(s) 35
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