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January 9, 2020
Ceinwen E. Cariad Haydon.
I am a snagged stitch –
I tug my knitting
unravelled to shapelessness
I am a blunt pencil –
I chew my worn stub
taste words I might have written
Disorientated in time and faith
dementia’s eclipse casts over her moon
marooned memories sit misted by clouds
March 22, 2019
anchor him to his sour bed.
Outside, rainfall makes laundry
impractical to contemplate.
Once, he recalls, vigour flushed his limbs,
his groin, his heart. Now,
memories mock his jaundiced skin.
In cut-crystal glass, Glenfiddich
slops and doesn’t get the...
August 31, 2018
The winter sun echoes braziers,
farewell flares setting low down
before teatime’s strawberry jam
is spread on buttered toast.
Lanterns (August 1982)
I remember gentle ripples
then strong waves
carried our paper lanterns –
translucent orange, made with care,