duck your head, the door is low
the dark warmth gathers round

crackling twigs in the fireplace
a smoothed hollow in the earthen floor

sit on a thin mattress
turn frozen fingers toes to the glow

over the fire she makes sweet tea
a thick ghee layer floating

she married young, ran away –
smoke escapes through gaps in the ceiling

she is Thakur, landowner caste
her home a windowless cow barn without a lock

the door crashes open
her shepherd man blows in, warms bare feet

they speak of the early cold
the firelight in their eyes

Sue Peachey

 

Sue Peachey is a New Zealander currently living in Canberra. She is a landscape designer with a strong interest in permaculture, pottery and poetry. She has published previously in Eucalypt, Haibun Today and Kokako.

© 2017