Barbara Fisher: Three Poems

AN ELEGY FOR JUNKET   Oh vestal virgin of desserts. I mourn your passing, remember how my spoon parted your nutmeg counterpane and set your white purity a-tremble. How gently you slid down our throats with the blessing of vanilla or the added luxury of cream. Alas, no more, no more! There are generations now who have never known you and do not comprehend their loss.\ Barbara Fisher   NIGHT NOISES Nine years old and sleepless in my English convent dormitory I listened to Mother Joseph taking off her clothes. I say‘listened’because of course I couldn’t see her. She slept…

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