Image: © Manchester Museum, The University of Manchester
Perhaps motherhood is a solitary
walk down the road of an interrupted dream
You point out birds, flowers, how the road arrives
at Spring. Behind you, two balloons dance
their strings in your hands. You are held
back on the path, wait at corners, guard
against the muffled shadows of cars
while the childrens’ voices bloom like bells in the woods.
You used to be the subject of life
now, you are the camera
and they; the rise
and tug of a knitting pattern
Behind you, they whisper that you are an escaped horse
they are hot on your trail. You look back.
One has lassoed a tree.
A man walks by, his dog a sad reluctance
on the end of a rope. You think, if motherhood is a road relieved
by Spring, then childhood is a dog walker with no animal
their lead windmilling the free air above them, lassoing the years
Eingang freihalten, bitte* hangs on a gate. You wish.
*Keep entrance clear, please
____
Charlotte Old lives in Hamburg with her two children. She teaches creative writing to teenagers and writes poetry. Under a different name, she has been shortlisted and commended for various prizes including the Bridport Prize, Mslexia, The Red Shed and Ware Poetry Competition. In 2023 she won the Gloucester Poetry Prize. She has poetry published in The Blue Unicorn and Orbis.