Margaret stories #1

About Margaret
She hated that hat
too tight too brown
too someone else’s head.
One afternoon
she threw it over a garden wall
held it by the thick felt brim
and flicked it flat
through cherry blossom air
frisbeed it
a whole long lifetime
before they were invented.
In 1940 she taught herself to drive
mastering the hill start
on ice, the Wey sluggish
in her rearview mirror.
Her limp was more mysteious
the story told in fragments
disordered – a bone set badly
the fall bounce scrape scream
down the sloping tunnel of the stairs
a shadowy cause
tight lipped at mention of her dad
a knowing look above a tea cup
enough said.

About Jan Dean

This entry was posted in A poem a day for April. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Margaret stories #1

  1. This is very good—extremely clear images. I loved the frisbee in particular.

  2. Jan Dean says:

    Ta. I’m in storytellling mode at the moment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s