Daughter
by and published in Edition Three of Pomegranate
On Monday the hospitals go _breathe, breathe,
you’re nearly there_. And it’s like an actual whole part of myself – the eye of a pearl – is wrapped in this cloth. It jumped
right out my mouth, gave you a heartbeat.
It stops on your first Tuesday of school. I think
mine has too. And your school uniform is stuck to you
in the stretcher-flat bed as you reach and grab for my neck
and the doctors mutter miracle.
Red Wednesday. Break time. The bruise on your knee
purple as a fruit tart. I pull you close to me beside the fire,
pick at your scattered new jigsaw, smaller pieces now.
One missing. Your piping voice Do I have a daddy?
Thursdays are for dates. Cinema tonight,
bar tomorrow. And your hair is a helmet of bleach,
angel-white. I wonder how long this one will last
as I watch your knickers whizz and spin in the boil wash.
Friday means you’re weeping again, slung out on the sofa
in a smudge of mascara. Your words are red
like the tinsel on the tree, and the slam of the door
cracks something in my skull. Burnt turkey.
This is the weekend, this is Saturday. Removal vans
and tears. Unbalanced weighing scales in the kitchen.
You say you’ll write. You’ll visit. But I can’t get over
the one place-mat on the dining room table. Empty spaces.
On Sunday the church bells swell and sway. It’s too hot
or is it just me? I try to catch you at the reception
but you’re slow dancing. And when you see me you press clear
on the calculator. Your polished eyes. Your dad’s smile.
Sophie Clarke
Back in the glory days, Sophie was a commended Foyle poet of 2007. She has more recently dabbled in a spot of poetcasting, and is soon to appear in Popshot magazine. In general she is rather too fond of cardigans and Radiohead. Also Kinder Scout, antique furniture, haribos and Viktor Shklovsky. Most likely to be found in her little Durham home, writing an essay on the shoeness of shoes at two o’clock in the morning. Rumoured to be anorexic. Aspires to be Thom Yorke. Probably the most unprolific writer ever.