filled van
the dismantled struts of pallets
shedwork
© Rachel Green September 2025
a decade past the age my mother reached
I wonder who I'd be had she survived
to see me past my infant years
and into adulthood and then had thrived.
She spent her life in second place as mother;
and partner of a poor but loving man
and so rarely got to see her brother
but for a week spent in Newcastle rain.
Her weeks were planned with each and every day
a routine set by patriarchal life
and counted out the pennies for a say
in how to ease their cost of living strife.
Would she respect the woman I became
and had she lived, would I have been the same?
© Rachel Green September 2025
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