Archive for September 1st, 2019

Sunday, 1 September 2019

The daughter that you wished for by Caron Severn Freeborn

was younger than I am
with longer hair
and certainly prettier.
She was smart but
not as clever as I am
nor as interested in esoteric books
and words like esoteric
though she’d read 50 Shades of Grey.
She went with her godmother
to have her nails done
and cooked a huge roast on Sundays
and had three or four babies
by the same man
and none of them had any kind of
abnormality congenital or willed.
She voted obviously for women died
but she wasn’t what you’d call political not
as such.  She drank dry white wine
but never to excess and her skin
showed she’d never smoked or used
drugs or had her baby cut out by
a surgeon listening to YMCA.
She didn’t trust women
like me but had loads of girlfriends
mostly from school
and she never slept with them
and they all had babies too.
And the daughter that you wanted
wanted you.

I can’t conjure that daughter from this pile
of straw.  Can’t plait her golden hair
as it grows from this wheel.
Didn’t have one name to guess but so many
I swallowed my bag of chicks like a snake.
On my life, I did try.  But I pricked my finger
fatally – I think fatally – in the attempt.
She will never come now.

It is late, even on this longest night.
Still I sit here in the dark, in the light;
I sit here still and I spin and I spin and I spin.


Date: 2018

By: Caron Severn Freeborn (1966- )