Letter from Clementine

Letter from The Old Schoolhouse on Luing
Dear Toni Morrison
I don’t wish you were here now
Facing the Firth of Lorne,
Your feet, numb,
Listening for other voices
How did you do anything but be the mother to him
Afterwards, did you tend to yourself
I think of you, on the pavement
outside the writer’s yurt, in Edinburgh
Blue shimmer of cigarette smoke
rises like a flower from your fist
I imagine you are content
Clementine Burnley
Tags: From Audience