I am honoured to have guest poet Arwen on my site today:
A ‘matted-hair ascetic’,
Head-scarfed like a chemo-
Therapy cancer-sufferer
(Recalling my dead sister);
Somehow still alluring, though,
In ‘Peaky Blinders’ cap, and
Trousers billowing and grey,
As I skip behind in my
Flowing purple, hippy skirt –
Like we’re both gender-diverse –
For, in that respect, I desire
The reflex of myself;
Your eyes a beautiful,
Open and expressive grey –
Though in the shops determined
(Recalling my dead grandmother).
We have reached a place of comfort;
So you thread my wrap-around skirt,
While I stand in dutiful
“Suits you” underwear.
A memory of non-essential
Shopping, two ‘girls’– you a
Shadow Julie Andrews,
Umbrella fighting the storm,
High up on Elizabeth
Way Bridge, worrying about us
Being bludgeoned by ‘far-right groups’ –
Always worrying about death;
Covid-19 on your mind
As you gave in to a melting
Hug – just before lockdown –
Two beings in a soft embrace.
–Arwen