Awkward
eating, taken out to lunch
by someone I meet
for the first time,
someone I know I’ll like,
want to like me.
Eating with my pudding spoon,
chorizo, braised celery,
and things I don’t look at
long enough to recognise
because I’m staring at him
as if he can’t see me
examining his nose
and the exact fullness of lips.
He looks back at me,
napkin to mouth,
behind which he chokes
on a green bean.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Haiku Snap
Dad, fag stuck to lip,
green eyes, hard like bottle glass,
surrounded by us.
Mum, squinting against
the sun, print dress and cardi,
is feeling the cold.
My younger sister
squats, knees up and mouth open,
unkissed frog princess.
The sulky one, me,
cross legged, camera shy,
wills time to pass.
* Bernardine Freud is a working gardener, strangely fond of mud and rain and has a poem in next Smiths Knoll.
