They used to say it was money.
A domestic goddess and invisible woman,
Making pies.
Lower your shame with soothing safeness
And smoke this cigarette.
She puts it to her lips because she doesn’t give a
Flying Fuck.
It’s six in the morning and she’s smoking outside the caravan.
Six in the goddamned morning.
Before coffee.
He doesn’t remember anything about me.
He doesn’t even remember my nephews name,
Even though I’ve spoken about
So many times.
I send him a link to what I want for
Christmas.
Sarah is an artist, actress, and poet - recently published by The Bounds Green Book Writers, A Soft Landing, Last Leaves Mag, Nottingham C.A.N, Bloodmoon Poetry and Nightingale and Sparrow Magazine. Her latest Art Commission can be seen in the resus ward, A+E Department and Chelsea and Westminster Hospital vaccination hub. Her visual poetry can also be seen in Streetcake Magazine and Nightingale and Sparrow magazine. Website: sarahbeckmather.com Insta: @sarahbeckmather
Comments