Notes about Cleo
(because I want you to know I love you well)

Winner of the Bernard Gadd Memorial Poetry Prize, 2009

My Grandmother’s vase
Stood proud on the bench
It was just a little nudge
That made it crash to the ground
It remained intact
An untenanted womb

Just a seam
A tiny crack running over the ceramic
Surely not significant
But from it seeped a pearl of water
Luminous, gaining weight
Until it dropped

A small trickle,
Like an icicle,
Melted in the morning sun
Gaining momentum
Until it splashed
On the polished wood

And that is what your face
Looks like
When sometimes,
In anger,
I raise my voice
Too much,

Leav
ing
A
Pool
Of
Tears
On
The
Floor
To be mopped.

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