Down on the prom, blood was gelling in their bodies.
The number plate was bent dyslexic on the pavement
The crocheted frill that rimmed the windscreen flapped,
Mexican waving at the missing roof.
The ‘Bismillah’ by the drivers mirror was melting in its plastic cover
The prayer coiling up in an oily line.
Sadayo wrote a poem about mother’s day - treating herself to a bottle of ‘Baileys and a rose cake/decorated with pink flower petals,’ she remembers that although ‘childless’, she’s still ‘a mother of the earth.’ The piece was interesting because it explored what it means to be a women, society's expectations and the roles involved around that.
We organise a sense of purpose,
the history of village life,
its stories changing all the time
walking down the history line.
The title of her poem made me smile: Scandalous, Not Us.