Patricia Marlowe
after Nancy Jane by Charles Simic
Step-father choking on his sandwich as she died.
Hope, the optimist, flying away.
Like spectators at a private drama we were,
children peering into a fishbowl.
In walked a nurse with a trolley.
(How was she to know?)
An uncrowded tea shop with two people
eating egg and cress sandwiches,
and a waitress in uniform
telling us to finish our food
was how it seemed:
there’s no hurry.
Such a sad scene, it made me laugh.
Sterile emptiness of a last moment:
ghost preserved in aspic,
a vacuum-cleaned car
with all its air sucked out.
Jenny Robb has been writing poetry since retiring from a social work and NHS career, mainly in mental health. She’s been published widely in online and print magazines, and anthologies. Her debut collection is The Doll’s Hospital, Yaffle Press 2022.