Apricot
Here can the widow walk
before seven on the lawn,
soaking her black clothes
under the sprinklers
taking her shoes off
The widow has painted her toenails black.
She wants to take a lover
and damage his heart.
She wants to cut apricot roses
and stitch them to her skirt.
The widow has left her children behind
in the dark house with the television
with the motorbike
the broken wasps
the lap dog yapping.
She knows the children will forget to eat fruit
to peel the snails from the windows
to boil the water.
But the sprinklers are cooling her skin
the roses are stitching themselves to her hem
the house of the famous writer will soon be open.
Page(s) 20
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