Have been snipping and stitching into
The flatness of paper with needles
Making patterns, a pattern, the patter of children of children
Hardly remembering what it was like to be without care
This house was waiting for us
Prototypes of perennials and plum tree blossoms
Lined with selected 20mm washed rock
and mulch covered geo textile
Anything to hold back the wild grasses
Husband and wife, sister and husband nod their heads
Approvingly about the new glass tea making gadget
which squeezes the tea from the bottom of the pot
“Don’t you think it’s lovely?” she asks
While I circle the rim of my cup - circles
No sooner did we pull the fork from our mouths did they
Hurry to remove all the plates – swift and invisible.
They had vanished - then thinking
How fun it would have been to exchange comedy and debate
Like we do in homes I know
Retreating to the traditional room for living
there was no comedy, no debate and frankly, no living.
As army ants they scurried, their weight in work
Stacking fragments of their past in a heap
And children of children dug holes in the garden with spoons
words © malai carrara 2012
Photography by Lisa meyer
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