Reading Matter
The town Free Library was too far.
From a local shop much nearer us
my mother read, for a shilling
or so a time, ‘women’s books’.
Came the day when: Would I
return them when I cycle past,
and get some more? - How will
I know what you’ve read already?
Son, you’ve noticed for months
my usual reading matter,
even looked inside some.
If in doubt, bring George Sava.
She only had an afternoon hour
to read anything at all.
I watched her slippers lift
and settle on the sunporch stool,
the pages turn, sunlight shift
slowly towards evening.
Almost an hour in, she’d say:
Have I read this already?
Page one you’d think had told her.
Old George still turns up in junk shops.
Bland doctor’s stories for middle-brows.
Retired, I read my afternoons away,
serious demanding stories, some
by doctors. Almost an hour in,
however, I pull back, often:
Have I read this already?
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