Mother

As its representative on earth she sets

the lemon meringue onto the cloth –

its perfect roundness and snowy peaks.

She divides it up with the cake knife,

cuts through the sweet crust

into the bright tartiness beneath.

We devour it; lick every last crumb

from around our mouths,

leave a shining empty plate.

Martin Figura was most recently described in a hospital referral letter (bad back) as ‘a pleasant 56 year old gentleman’. He lives in Norwich where he chairs Café Writers amongst other things.  He’s still touring his show Whistle.

Mother is taken from his collection and one man poetry show, Whistle.