My mother’s patchwork spreads
across the floor
like it’s smothering flames.

Her needle speeds
through muslin, cotton, sack cloth.

The central square,
from which all else radiates,
my blue and yellow baby blanket.
Once rescued from a bin,
splattered with cabbage and gravy.

As my mother sews,
her spectacles fall
to the tip of her nose.

I itch to push them up again.

Belinda has poems published in various magazines, including Brittle Star, Dream Catcher, ARTEMISpoetry, Obsessed with Pipework and Sarasvati. Some poems have appeared on-line, others in anthologies. She has an MA in Fine and Media Arts and a PhD in Women’s Voices in Contemporary Poetry.