Any Old Jerusalem

On the laps of our beloved smoking mothers - 
we heard them speak of how the world
was whilst they were young.

The festooned nights of war-torn bingo halls -
where everything was just about right and unjust
about wrong. Where no one owned a phone.

I can still see her on abandoned mornings -
alone and never giving inches to winter ghosts.
Cigarette in mouth. Eyes down. Enraged of England.



◄ Gloria Wilson


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M.C. Newberry

Wed 7th Apr 2021 12:16

A terse and tightly written pen picture that evokes a past that those
of a certain vintage will identify with more than most.

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