China figurines and my younger self
banned from picking them up.
They positioned for the Viennese waltz
on the low shelf above the three bar fire.
Sherry Time like clock-work.
Pretzels were posh and what laughter
from that living room, that once proud,
immaculate room with its swirling carpet.
Some things already suggested
the old ways would not sustain:
displaced books, a record without
a sleeve tucked in behind the others,
fallen coasters in the dusty space
that no one could quite reach.
[Further reading: The NS poem: A dream in two parts]
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This article appears in the 15 Apr 2026 issue of the New Statesman, Angry Young Women