‘… but something told me that ten years had passed
… it’s like pushing open a door that doesn’t work the
same ten years later …’
Something told me that ten years had passed.
The paint was clean, curtains hung in folds,
I thought of ‘original condition’
Then I wondered how the years had passed:
would fall away and everything that once existed
A couch was important,
You held the cat in midair
‘Prison does not provide an elderly person’s idyllic life
The potatoes turned over
Mary Macpherson is a Wellington poet and photographer. Her publications are Millionaire’s Shortbread, University of Otago Press 2003 (joint collection) and the inland eye, Pemmican Press, 1999.
|Contents||Previous | Next|