My turn – Finola Scott

My turn

Slowly folding Mum curves
towards foetal
pebble knuckles clutch
the bathroom sink

Her bones now brittle
weary from holding
the looseness of her belly
so often baby-taut

Time-faded freckles hoard
her long summer days,
shrivelled teats remember
my touch.

As I soap the flannel
I feel the tug of return.
She bows her head
accepts this is her time.

…

Finola Scott’s work is published widely, including in The High Window, Prole and Lighthouse. Dreich publish her recent pamphlet Count the ways. More can be read at FB Finola Scott Poems. Finola enjoys zooming, cakes and blue tits, not neccesarily in that order.