Tuesday Poem: “The Begonias”
The Begonias
Mal pushes
each seedling down,
grime lining
the cracks in her hands,
eyes narrowed
against the sun’s
low angle. Usually
she crams her hair up
beneath an old hat—the floppy kind
that cricketers wear—
but today the hat is perched
amongst magnolia stellata
and Mal’s hair
is a fraying rope
that follows the curve
of her spine, swinging
to every movement
of bend forward, sit back,
as she pauses, wiping
dirt across her face. “I thought
you didn’t like begonias,”
I say. Mal shrugs.
“Mum always planted them here.
I thought I might as well …”
She seizes the hat,
pulls it low
across her eyes.
.
(c) Helen Lowe
Published in moments in the whirlwind, Ed. Barbara Strang, NZ Poetry Society, 2009
—
To read the featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Hub and other great poems from fellow Tuesday poets around the world, click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.
This is a lovely poem, Helen. I especially like the detailed descriptions, like the “grime lining the cracks in her hands” and how it ends on such a poignant note.
Thank you, Janis.
I really like the wilful (and I know this is terrible but it’s the closest word my mind can come up with) cross-grainedness of Mal’s “practical” form of mourning. It absolutely sets the beautiful descriptions alight.
I think Alicia said it best with practical mourning. I can relate to that. 🙂
‘. . . And Mal’s hair
is a fraying rope. . .’
This is a wonderful image, Helen. There’s a sense of hesitant-but-dedicated industry in this poem that I find very moving – a feeling, too, of gritty grace, in Mar’s movement. Her choice re; where to plant the begonias is plain and undramatic, yet this simple gesture is also deeply honouring –
‘Mum always planted them here.
I thought I might as well. . .’
Thanks, Helen.
Thank you, Claire, Sharon, Alicia, for your appreciation for this poem—or put another way: ‘for … liking … and for saying so.” (The Bard always has words for everything! 😉 )