28th March 2026

 

sunshine

with impending clouds

my dad's scythe

© Rachel Green March 2026

Poetically Questioned

Why does the rope

become a metaphor for relationships

when the disabled become soldiers

of drone-flight bombers?

What became of your aunt

in the years after her son died?

You wanted to be like him

when you were a young man

but you coveted his wife

even before their divorce.

Can you remember your telephone number

from when you were a child?

And what about the Mobile number of your daughter now

without looking it up?

And what about those memories you have

when you look at old photographs?

Do those people still exist in your head

or have they faded from memory

like the Polaroids from your instant camera?

And did those people ever exist at all,

or were they as imaginary as your friends?

© Rachel Green March 2026