Mrs Flood – a poem

This poem was published in December 2015 in Alliterati Magazine here.

 

Mrs Flood

 

Father lifts and lowers:

the nightdress crumples,

hitched on ivory hips.

She droops into the seat

following skin beneath her.

 

Two plastic bags, carelessly left,

fill in the rain.

Water wells in their bottoms –

sagging wet and wrinkling.

 

Ten pence of plastic.

 

She spends a penny

in a pot in a chair

by her bedside.

 

Her cheeks would flush

were there blood enough.

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