Literature – Bealtaine

Breakfast with my Grandmother

As all others slept, she was ours /
and we were hers.

I found you in the space /
beneath blood and bone.

“I’ll be honest,” he puffs then tells his tale of resurrection.

far from sea, from sun – afraid

after my sister died i gave her a day
from each of my weeks.

Idle witness to nature’s flourish contained /
my hand divines the way

We’d pretend that Olivia was my baby, giving her a doll’s soother to suck and pushing her around in one of its prams.

But look at the swans! I said /
pulling my girl past night beds

He wore a scarlet scrap of his uncle’s brunt.

There is space enough
To go around.