Pauline Sewards





Born old
as fairytale, I believed,
villages lived
in the broken throated burr
of your voice

I heard the tall tale of the needle,
carelessly dropped,
that made a decade long journey
through your shin

You lived in a tin house
in a  field.
you fetched water each day
from the mile away

You lived in a thatched house
with pigeons under the eaves
a smell of paraffin
in the only room
you could afford to heat

You lived in grandmother’s house
where sugardrunk in my under-table den
I watched  your daughter lift you,
with her nurse’s arms
A kite of rags.



Pauline Sewards lives in Bristol and works in health care. She has been published in anthologies and magazines including Loose Muse, South Bank Poetry, Domestic Cherry, Ariadne’s Thread and online at :

Comments are closed.