Scattered Ash
Smart in my school
uniform
I watched the coffin
slide behind the velvet
curtain
like a battleship to a
watery grave.
Hard to imagine mum was
in there,
her diminutive frame no
longer making tea
or mincing the leftover
roast on a Monday
for casserole or stew,
bubbling
on the ancient Aga
stove top
as she scooped away the
fat from the top
some to keep for
dripping,
some to soak the dog's
biscuits.
I still do that now,
a little gravy saved
for the dogs,
though now it's low
fat, low sodium
and entirely
vegetarian.
She would have
disapproved
but then she would have
disapproved of me
being an artist, an
atheist,
a writer and fighter.
Onlt the best for her
child.
University and
marriage, three kids
and a house by the
river,
a good job in the bank
and an aneurysm at fifty.
I've had a stroke
I wonder if she'd be
proud enough
to read my novels.
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