“Ragbag” by C. Murray

 Image © Karen Maes



These small sorrows are mine,
and they belong to the world.

Clothes that the children have outgrown
disgorge from its mouth, brightly.

I pull at them, a veined mass of scarves,
winding-sheets, unwind unto the kitchen floor.

Here, a piece for dress-up, a flowery veil,
a robe. It could dress a dynasty.

The white napkins (plain)
A tablecloth (embroidered) 
flutter on the year’s edge, &

the flowers beneath my feet do not bloom
I can feel their stir under the loam.

Ragbag is © C.Murray