Tuesday, 9 August 2016

POTATOES

POTATOES

I can smell the sweet potato peel
Upon my skin - and I visualize walking
Amongst the summer rows.

I pick over the box of earthy potatoes.
When I pull one that is perfect
I turn it in my hand like a gold nugget -
Buried in my memory - a charm.

I peel back happiness from the soil,
Memories drop into a watery bowl;
The day we planted them - sowing
Love which had lain on the edges.

Uncertain, I nearly threw love out
With un-seeded tubers; to decay in hedges.
Instead I wrapped them and stored them
In a cold shed - for spring planting;

I can already see your face shining pride
At flowering drills; you stand with a wide-stance;
The posture of the accomplished soul - your eyes,
Stare lovingly at each planted offering.


https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison/

https://sites.google.com/a/lapwingpublications.com/lapwing-store/helen-harrison


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