Wasn’t Her Fault
written by: LadyLily
@AFairymary
‘You need lockin’ up!’ Grandma would shout.
Scruffed by the neck, open palmed clout.
‘Sip up that soup, or you’ll get nowt!’
Welted thighs from Military belts,
brass buckle burns scar her pelt.
Head held down,
frowned,
under iced-pole tap.
Scragged onto oil-cloth, crawled in the gap
eyes frozen, a single blink
in her hideaway sanctuary.
under the sink.
Grandma said…’Yer goin’ away!’
Twenty-fifth of December an invisible day,
no birthday, no cards on the mantle,
or a running wax cake mounted candle.
Rummaged the market waste
for treasured fruit.
Scoffed a sad old apple,
concealed her loot.
Under the table she sat for hours
like a discarded pup, curled up and cowered.
Hairnet, shoe-lace…mean playthings
gave her imagination golden wings.
Conjured a posh silver sequined going out bag,
and a diamante shoe-laced necklace
with a Hatton Garden tag.
Distraught, she fought the dark,
thought she was mad…
Down to the abuse she’d always had.
It’s them! Troubled in their callous heads
constructing night-demons in her rusty brass bed.
Plunged in frog pond, an effort to halt
ten-year turmoil
that wasn’t her fault.
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