Stroud Poets 10
Marina Bielenky, Marcus Blackett, Steve Wheeler

Thirty Years in the Making
Marina Bielenky

I spot remnants of my once-favourite trousers
speckled with pink stars
and crescent moons.

Ah! That yellow is my son’s ice hockey shirt.
How proud he was, standing tall on his blades,
stick in hands, helmet on head, visor down.

There’s my daughter’s black school skirt
and red leg warmers that she wore
even in summer.

These pieces of green are from the felt
that wrapped the yarra candlesticks,
kept them safe as we travelled from Down Under.

Here is the bright blue shirt,
my sometimes beloved wore
to match his bright blue eyes.

I caught him once, in front of the mirror,
practising his ‘I’m irresistible’ look.
He used that look after a shouting match.

His way of making up.
He was always right –
About the irresistible I mean

I wrap this not-quite-circle
of a ragged rag rug
round my cold knees.