Elsie One Wednesday 1948.

She found the area 

where they had 

moved to rather rough 

and the people not 

what she was used to. 

She had to go down 

the steps of the flats 

One step at a time 

with the pram, trying 

not to bump the baby 

awake. A man coming 

up the stairs stopped 

and helped her down 

with the pram without 

having to be asked. 

He seemed down to 

earth and once he had 

helped he went off 

without a word. Eddie 

seldom spoke to anyone 

in the flats; he thought 

them beneath him for 

some reason. They had 

rowed during breakfast 

and he said hurtful things, 

then said it wasn’t him, 

but black dog. She went 

through the Square towards 

the shops. She had little 

money until Friday; she 

would have to get what

 she could with what little 

money she had. The sky 

was dull, full of dark clouds 

promising rain. She hoped 

baby didn’t wake while out 

shopping. She sighed. After 

he had gone off to work, she 

lit a cigarette and then cried. 

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

I made myself at home with this poem after the fourth reading, the fourth aloud. There's a tale with a gentle nod of the writer's head every so often, recalling, savouring or frowning at the good or galling of view. I wasn't sure of the tunnelled shape of the let*ters until i thought perhaps they were being kept safe. Sometimes we do n't know what can be learned, explained, understood at the blink of an eye telling - excusing a moment's grey mood or unfortunate sadness and its outcome.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Emma