Poem 183

Young man writing presumptuously about an old woman … nevertheless, now being widowed myself, this speaks to me – so I feel my presumption got something right …

Widow

Since she has been old the sun has ceased to interest her
she has sunk deep and her shipwreck bones
can't be warmed
she has learnt things
that she keeps house for winter
that age has a taste
that like children neither of her legs
can be trusted on its own

it didn't rain she could tell you that much about her day
and that she bought mandarins
far brighter and looser in their skins
than when she was young and mandarins were stunted
fiddly fruit
her nail has unrolled three of the papery lantern hearts
one bitter it still lies on the table in its nest
of soft white strings
and she is lost looking into the sky

she ate mandarins
Chinese lanterns in the dead of winter
this one she sets in her husband's place