Today’s choice

Previous poems

Jackson 

 

 

Patterned with cows

I want to tell my mother,
I made a successful loaf
in the bread machine you didn’t know
you were leaving me
which has sat untouched
on the benchtop since you went
as Dad sat untouched on the couch

I used your stick mixer, too
I made some hummus
And thank you for buying
such an excellent set of pans

I want to tell her,
I sometimes wear
your cosy blue wool jumper
but I gave away most of your clothes
I gave away all the homespun cardigans
Sorry
I gave away your red thermal top
It was warm, but I found it scratchy

I want to tell her,
I donated the ornaments to Hospice
but I kept the engraved teaspoon you won at golf
and the solid silver serving spoons –
were they your mother’s?
I found the polish
at the back of the laundry cupboard

I want to tell her,
Look! I photographed this rainbow
from your deck
I’m surprised you never tried to paint
the view
I’m living in your house
I never imagined that – did you?
The bedroom had no mirror! How did you stand it?

I want to tell her,
I’m looking after Dad
He’s in a home
I bought him a dressing gown
and winter socks
and – can you believe it? – they’ve got him
using deodorant

He traded in the old Swift
for a fancy new one
then had a stroke

He left the house in quite a mess
but I’m fixing it up. Do you like
my red vinyl floor? So easy to clean!
It was the only colour I could find
that went with the timber

I want to tell her all these things
but I know she wouldn’t have listened

except for the bit about Dad
Deodorant! Good heavens! she would have said

The loaf smells delicious
It needs to cool
I’ll wrap it in one of her tea towels
patterned with cows –
definitely not my thing
but too good to throw away

 

 

Jackson has four published poetry collections and a PhD in Writing. Their poems have appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Poetry Aotearoa Yearbook. They were born in Cumbria, grew up in Australia and now live in New Zealand. writerjackson.com facebook.com/writerjackson Instagram: @writerjackson

Erwin Arroyo Pérez

Here, in my Manhattan room / insomnia tugs at me like a half-closed taxi door / letting all the echoes in
/ an ambulance carries the last breath of an asthmatic man

Kweku Abimbola

My father walks backwards
better than most walk forward—
so whenever he sewed his steps into the living
room carpet, I rushed to mirror my moon-
walking, until he froze,
froze like he’d been caught
by the beat.

Paul Bavister

We found our eyes first,
as they swirled through fragments
of black jumper, dark pine trees
and an orange sunset sky

Phil Vernon

Because we were four
and I only had strength to carry one
and knew no other way
I carried the one who called out loudest;
threatened us most.