Parting

I made chilli, in a pot two arms wide
with sweet peppers, tomatoes red as a beating heart,
glorious curls of onion.

There were brothers, father, boyfriend of course
to carry the wardrobe we picked
when she was just handle-tall,
the boxes of belongings gathered over years
she didn’t need me to do that

so I made chilli.
They came home later
ate it all in big hungry mouthfuls.

More things to move tomorrow

perhaps I’ll bake a cake.


* Jan Harris writes poetry, short stories and flash fiction.  She has recently had work published on Flashquake and Nth Position.