for my mother
Odd but necessary the solution that comes to us,
to stare through glass at you: your parched face
slanted towards the afternoon light. On your wall
a forest you’d painted when we were young.
Two red coated figures walk under trees
and we remember the bedtime story you read us –
wardrobe portal into snow, a lamppost, Narnia’s wood.
Now, here is the masked carer, opening the window
to the love we yell in – such force it unsettles you.
We’re ready to turn back to our strange world
where we stand apart, can’t touch, but lucky
we’ve seen your lips pucker into one last kiss.
~ 11 April 2020, Blackrock, Co. Dublin
(Manchester Metropolitan University,
https://www.mmu.ac.uk/write/through-the-window.php)
