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