A new poem by Dunedin poet Michael Hall.

Home, At the Kitchen Table

Lifting her cup
My mother mouths
Her tea
As if she is whispering
To it
As if it
Is a god
In a Greek tree –
Ancient leaves
Rustling
In the Mediterranean
Wind.

Then she takes
A biscuit
Dips it in
Like an ancient boat
Into the sea.
Moonlight glimmers
To the horizon.
This Penelope.
She is going
I think –
She is sailing away.
She will miss Ithaca.

Author’s note: Among other things, this poem is about the gradual loss of a parent through alzheimers. 

The Friday Poem is edited by Chris Tse. Submissions are currently closed.