Allotment – by Vivien Jones

 

I just have to see those rigs,
those bed-spread patches,
to see my mother sewing
fragments of grown-out-of clothes,
to make a summer skirt.

She laid the colours like plants,
like rows of summer blossom,
the cup of tulips, the tuck of roses,
the corduroy of new turned rigs,
I wore a garden in the sun.

While outside, my father
lined up wigwams for beans,
telling us wide-eyed children
they were magic, would grow
to the sky, where giants

might sing to a magic harp.
One by one, we lost belief
until there was only
the little red flowers,
the curling tendrils, the

fattening pods. Breathe in
and hide in the leafy tent,
runs a thumb down the seam,
pop the pods, catch the beans,
now that was magic.

 

 

 

Vivien Jones : Her first poetry collection – ‘About Time, Too’ (Indigo Dreams) published in 2010. In that year she also won the Poetry London Prize.  Her second poetry collection – ‘Short of Breath’ (Cultured Llama) published in 2014. She has two short story collections in print and  spoken word and drama pieces for performance. www.vivienjones.info

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