|
Poetry by Laura Matheson
Battle Scars
See this wrinkle, here
Just under my left eye?
That's the birth of my first son John
And this one, deep-scored under my right,
That's the time he fell out of bed
Just 4 months old
A rapid, trip-trap to hospital
Limp baby, sweating palms, frantic taxi
And unnatural nurse reassurance
Where are the medals and stripes for mothers?
Our battles are so often internal, infernal, eternal
Our victories sweet, fleeting, unnoticed
We should carry our marks visibly
Like bindi on our foreheads, like stigmata
Down to the bone, always with us
Like the love we nurture for our children, fiercely
Morning
Leaving the old grey building
I step onto the terrace
Eyes wincing as the sun greets me
Turning I catch my breath
At the beautiful mountains
Ridges and hummocks, paths and dips
Stand modestly for the admirer
Walking down the slope
The sun catches me
Runs warm fingers through my hair
And escapes, laughing, past me
Through the trees
Vacation
The holiday brochure told lies
Where was the full bodied sea,
The cavernous deep blue sky
The clean straight buildings
And friendly local characters?
Most of the week the sky was grey,
Brooding clouds glowering
Over the oddly cramped streets
The stonework grubby and graffiteed
And the faces said the same things-
Doubt, worry, fear, prejudice;
The locals discussed the weather
Your life also told lies
This was no married fun
No relaxation in the sun
One of you had already packed her bags
Body tensed to spring the trap
Of her marriage
Eyes bright with deception
Cool mind holding back
Treacherous emotions
|
