Angel
He found the passport
on the Northern Line
didn’t hand it in
kept it buried in a drawer
under a tangle of socks and ties
takes it out from time to time
to consider her startled eyes
her speechless mouth
the place where she was born
wonder at the foreign name
that slavers on his tongue
as he seals her in his wallet
shields her from the sun
*Angela Croft is a walker – and a runner up – in the British Red Cross competition to mark the Day of the Disappeared; Aesthetica Creative Writing Annual and highly commended by Mslexia recently for her poem on motherhood. Quite a feat since she has no children…
This poem first appeared the Delinquent 16 Dec 11 and included an error. This is the correct version.