May 2018
Encapsulated in a cloud of smoke
She coughs, splutters, releases the choke
Shouting down the garden; ‘it’s on fire, fire!’
My mother looks on with fathomless tire.
She coughs, splutters, releases the choke
Shouting down the garden; ‘it’s on fire, fire!’
My mother looks on with fathomless tire.
From the anthology ‘Only Swerve for Jesus’
