Aberdeen, July

nineteen eighty one


teatime orchestra

played to back garden air

through open kitchen windows

cutlery on plates

bubbles in basins

the rise and fall of shouting, laughter

dishes plunge then rise

drip-dryers by sinks, busy below sills


late afternoon brought

slowing scratches of heels on tarmac

dragging from socked feet

prams and buggies

standing on grass

haphazard and raided

by pint-sized mothers

brothers taking turns

standing on their pedals,

persuading bikes up a propped plank


beach buckets sit by a downpipe

water and rose petals

perfume factory remnants

the sweetness of the scent

lighting wasps’ radar


my mother’s face


eyes closed

sternum offered

to the last of the sun

fingers resting on the line

between unpegging pants

and unpegging vests


ice cream van chimes

singing in drifts over rooftops

calling clues;


almost here


bath time, soon











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