Clouds reflected in windows as she approached the telephone
box that sat on the edge of scrap land used for village parking.
The gravel was still wet but summer warmth eased in when a
section of sky cleared, grey turned blue. She stopped and
glanced towards the shops, two rows of seven formed into a
corm-shape. She reached into the side pocket of her denim
work clothes (a uniform neatly offset by white nylon blouse)
and pulled out a black wood rosary
Turn the corner past the disused school
left then third left (stop and talk)
avoid the rubbish in the gutter and alley
go through a gate set into a high concrete-
bricked wall (enjoy the holly-trellised vine
dandelion, bulrush, betony)
walk to the kitchen back door
Admire the trestle table, ordinary furniture,
scullery and parlour, luxurious orange-spicy
incense, garlands of poppy, fennel and primrose,
delicious gummy muscatel raisins (followed
by quiche and currant slice)
Sleepy now…wallpaper, patterned,
lightly floral…cornice, frieze like icing…
curtain lace… screening daylight…
vaporous material…milk-snow undulance…
February-Autumn –
(yes, that season again)
a journal filled with illucid mischief
sulphurous medicine
I confess, I was imprisoned
malnourished – destined
to remain immured –
picturing a way out
~ ~ ~