hanging from the birch tree
wind blown plastic
© Rachel Green 2020
I was seven or so
ushered into a darkened room
where my father lay.
Striped pyjamas
and a belt around his middle.
The big, Jack O'Lantern scar
of his appendectomy
displayed in all its rawness.
He'd have benn in his forties
when it burst
because he strained too hard
on the toilet.
© Rachel Green 2020
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