By Ruth Asch
Memento
Mum’s broken angel
old-gold fragments on the floor:
no longer relic
but sacred waste
to be disposed of carefully
– like bones or love letters –
each piece watermarked
by memory.
Wings arrowtips;
arms empty parentheses;
long robed body
a curving path
– dead at each end.
The face alone, cut free…
still singing.
***
About the author:
Ruth Asch is a poet and creative prose writer, whose work is to be found printed in several anthologies, literary journals, websites, and in her early book Reflections. She is also a part-time teacher and mother of five, living in Preston, England.
