one of 50 poems originally commissioned as a
poster poem for Poems For the Waiting Room, Hyphen-21
To make her magic
It was strangely hot,
the ash tree gasped in dust
as we approached,
dark-bud twigs cracking the sky.
All my life a Luddite
but glad to wait beside you in that roomó
antechamber to miracles.
Your grandparents put trust in herbs.
I made ritual,
sent healing energies,
secretly enjoyed being called witch
and this sense of filaments stretched
like Indra's Web from life to life.
would make her magic next.
This morning I wait alone, dry-lipped,
the telephone a magnet.
I have touched this child, know she exists.
Creature on the edge of skin.
in My Mind",
"Sling a Jammy Doughnut" (ed), picture-book
"The Land Songs",
all poems featured on this site remains with the