Poetry

Valerie Murray: Gold

Gold No knees-up, post staph. Will this grey thread see me out, or this blue one, or the red reel? Will I still see eye to eye with the needle? Will I ever do more than mend, fix, patch, meet a need?   Gone the days of designed, crafted clothes for me and the family.   Gone the days of elaborate roasts, layered torten with chocolate ganache, even the goulash and tweaked salads with crisp bacon pieces and dainty capers. Healthy, sure, a balance of veg, but half are prepared meals easy to bake or nuke.   A handful of…

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