~LYNNELL EDWARDS~

EASTER MONDAY

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Lamb cold and clotted
on the bone, chopped cabbage,
English tea murky with milk:
this cold midday meal
taken alone after a cold morning
spent clearing dishes, linens;
stowing silver in the dark chest,
my thief's accounting
of each tine and blade.
Outside, a saw whines
its violence against the beam,
a house carpenter begins
his work again; a bird
makes her racket of song,
and room to room
the dispatch of flowers.
My god, the Easter flowers.

   

© by Lynnell Edwards