Thanks Max -reminds me my granny and her knick knacks glazed -locked
treasure cupboard
P cold here in London
-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Max Richards
Sent: 12 June 2013 10:20
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: 'Dainty'
Dainty
Never in her long life
did my late mother
have money to spare.
'Self-indulgences'
were for other people,
and not respected.
Folk admired her
'dainty figure' -
she ate so little.
When sixty, widowed,
travelling at last,
her selective eye
desired small things,
lightweight - 'not cheap',
but 'inexpensive'.
A small white mug
says 'Killarney',
a green angler swinging
his rod to cast his line,
with maybe a salmon
taking the fly. In Auckland,
it stood for where her father
had migrated from,
her Irish talisman -
now my souvenir of her,
pushed neglected
behind our useful mugs.
Tiny teaspoons with
tiny blazons declare
Hawaii, Acapulco,
Panama - places
beyond my ken.
For her, all 'dainty',
they'd fetch up
at child-eye level
in her china cabinet.
The unlocked door, grasped
by her first grand-daughter,
swung forward heavily,
everything crashed forwards.
Dainty teapots lost
their dainty spouts.
Pewter and silver -
they were OK.
The spoons survived
to come my way.
Glancing at them
I feel clumsy,
overfed, all thumbs.
Should she be with me now
in Seoul, Korea, amongst
these women of delicate
beauty, how she'd rejoice
whispering 'dainty, dainty'.
I'm saying it for her.
