Miss Berry

by Liz Berry

Miss Berry

I have learnt to write rows of o’s  bobbing

hopeful as hot air balloons from the line’s tethers


and watched eight Springs of frogspawn

grow legs but never…


and conducted clashy-bashy orchestras

of chime bars ocarina thundering tambour


and curled my hand over another hand

to hinge the crocodile jaws of the scissors.


I have accompanied a small mourning party

to a blackbird’s burial plot


and rolled countless bodies, like coloured marbles,

across gym mats


and conducted science’s great experiments

using darkened cupboards, plastic cups and cress


and unhooked a high window on a stuffy day

and heard the room’s breath.


I have measured time by paper snowflakes,

blown eggs, bereft cocoons


and waved goodbye in Summer so many times

that even in September my heart is June.

© Liz Berry