Take the photo
from the mantle, run
the cloth around the wood
gentle,
gentle, to shine the surface
of its dust
A sister fades
by cornice framed
her countenance
her parted lips
the breath of all
she need not say
Forget-me-not,
O Mother:
Mother, trust
the herbs
the shrubs
trimmed to ornament
trust Darjeeling
flowers tamed
in slow spill
from vases
placed just so
Trust our house, the spiral
stairs, the hiding places
her violet tangle
of Wisteria
Blinds the windows
binds the walls
where weatherboards
meet at corners
and the gentle vine
is trussed
Wisteria, wisteria,
enter us, twine
her knotted hands
that touch
the grandfather clock
to quicken
hour by hour
an ever ticking
hush.
By Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
January 2015