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