Object memory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It sits on the mantelpiece now
That molten mass of memory
Glowing with luminous force
To a casual observer it would seem
An odd thing
To display for all to see
Fused irregularity
Shaped by inferno
It is what remains

Murano glass, once a necklace
In chunky Sixties style
Olive green, gold interior
It would have looked fabulous
With what I wear today

My mother’s necklace

Golden clasp and beads
Embedded within silken lava
Curved metal emerges like
Strange antennae
Closer inspection reveals
Bra underwires that
Shared the drawer that is no more

Great tits! My father’s friend said
Defiling my precious object
Vessel of memory
Connection to past, to home

A mother’s love

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