Old Bags

My Mother

loved old bags

she’d carry everything

in a plastic bag:

Baker’s Delight bags,

Safeway bags,

"I’ve got you a Myer’s bag."

"Oh good,

I need a strong bag."

 

There’s a drawer 

where I keep 

the bags for Mum.

I open it automatically

to jam another one in.

 

It’s overflowing,

so many bags for Mum

then it dawns why;

 

Mum hasn’t been

picking them up:

she had a stroke,

she can’t walk.

 

I’ll never again open the door 

to her anxious, 

glad to see me, smile.

I should throw the bags out,

but maybe

if I keep them,

she’ll get better.



© Pete Dowe 2002