Poetry

Red Velvet Cabbages

  Red velvet cabbages Red velvet cabbages flop heavy-scented on prickly sticks in the sea air. She who pruned and planted them walks now almost as slim and proud as twenty years ago, before her body turned against her. No one could forget those perfumed breasts. My tongue tastes tender scarlet crumbs exploding from red velvet cake, three years ago and half the world away; and, distant as the dinosaurs, the man across the table, his clever mouth on mine.   Jenny Blackford  

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