Monday, 18 July 2016

A poem by Adele Fraser

Another Theory of Relativity


On the bus to my ex’s house,
I encounter a woman
who lost five children
to Social Services.

She carries their photographs
like crosses, plays with them
like rosary beads,
and wouldn’t part with them,
even for a half ounce.

And, inside me, something flips over,
and I know now I will cope.

For this woman takes my burden,
dismantles my dollhouse furniture
and reveals it to me as out of scale
or proportion.

She tears up my mental pictures
of baking and bedtime stories,
nature walks and birthday parties,
which I’d nailed to my brain
to torment myself.

There is more than one paradigm,
more than one point
of comparison.

My default was set to perfection,
until this stranger made me see
how small had been my sample
and how blinkered was my vision,
when I’d asked the age-old question
‘Why not me?’





Adele Fraser lives and writes in the mountains of Snowdonia, Wales, UK. Her work has been published in a number of magazines both online and in print, most recently The Interpreter’s House, Vada Magazine, Clear Poetry, and Ink, Sweat & Tears



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