Last Year In May – New Poem (first draft)

Last Year In May

It was a beautiful spring day,

and I thought we’d be in and out of A&E quickly.


But it was more serious than we thought.

Her organs were giving up.


Mum said, ‘I want to go home, to your home,

make potato salad for the kids

with salt and pepper and parsley.


Even when she’d been transferred

to the intensive care ward,

she said she didn’t need her nightgown

reading glasses, or medication

because we’d be leaving soon.


The kids bought a plastic bowl of potato salad,

mayonnaise dabbed the tight clingflim

as they struggled to keep hold.


Mum went very fast, like the first ripe grapes

or layer of mist on a hot morning.

She was still holding her handbag.