By Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon
Legs akimbo, typewriter balanced, split in mood,
I sit on a cold, humped ridge of drystone wall.
I write my mother, say this time is glorious;
all the while, my heart misses lonely beats.
This grey day, will my cup be half full,
spated in overflow or yawning empty.
His family’s eyes scan me secretly
for faults whilst smiling welcome
gifts. Last night’s heavy supper,
lardy pie, kept me wakeful.
Today, my face pales, skin
blotched by bruised tears:
another night sans love.
In his family home, foremost, he
is his mother’s son; I have lost
my man to their embraces.
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She is a Pushcart and Forward Prize nominee. Her first chapbook ‘Cerddi Bach’ (Little Poems), was published in 2019 by Hedgehog Press. She is developing practice as a participatory arts facilitator, mainly working with elders and intergenerational groups. She believes everyone’s voice counts.
