Poem: ‘Unbegun’
Maggie York, 10 October 1991
I
I hovered in doorways, behind her chair – always at my back a father, a brother. She shoved leftovers round the frying pan with a wooden spatula. Supper time already, the London Palladium da-de-da’ed round the screen. I carried the dishes into the kitchen and caught her in the door-walled lobby. I whispered into her face she reeled back ‘Oh hen I’ve nothing for ye,...
