Today’s choice

Previous poems

Kathleen Gray

 

 

 

Liberty

When she asked what I wanted
to be when I grew up, my mother
laughed when I said ‘free’

She’s been dead for more than
thirty years – not much freedom
in her kitchen-sink life

She settled for snatching time out,
pausing with that dreamy look,
that secret smile,

knife in one hand, half-scraped
carrot for Thursday’s soup
in the other, oblivious

to me spying from the kitchen
door, wondering where she
escaped to and if one day

she’d decide to take off
her apron, leave us free to
cook our own soup.

 

 

Kathleen Gray is Scottish by birth, French by adoption. Her poems have been published in various literary magazines, including New Feathers, Drawn to the Light, The Alchemy Spoon, London Grip, Poetry Scotland and Causeway. She lives in Paris

Finola Scott

Such a knife, a real Et Tu Brute number. Bone handled, incisive. Decades of marriage
had whetted the blade to feather lean. Anniversaries marked in metal.

Max Wallis

god grant us the serenity / to accept the things we cannot change / the courage to change the / things we can / and the wisdom to know el differencio /