Written by Kevin Patrick McCann
Bustles smiling one hand on
Her swollen belly in what
Had been her Nursery,
Abigail crouches inside
A shadow as the second
Mrs. Crain steps out sensibly
Onto the landing (Nursery door
Slams shut behind her) she half
Turns her heel a lifting reflex
That doesn’t quite clear piano
Wire taut invisible ankle height,
Glimpses Abigail wave hears
Laughter feels her lungs emptying
As Abigail (wire snipped) runs
Down backstairs (balled in her palm)
Out into garden cold dew between
Her toes that tickles, she turns and
Turns (someone is screaming) and
Turns again until the grass falls up
To meet her, arms crossed, fingertips
Splayed at each shoulder the world’s
A dime spinning on its edge slowly
Wobbling until it clatters down heads…
Text © Kevin Patrick McCann
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