(for Jan)
We were motherless mothers You and I, with our newborns New to it all You taught me how to iron business shirts, you, knowing all about shoulders and seams I’d iron creases in, instead of out You showed me how to fold and flatten you knew about fabrics I can see the pale green caterpillar cake you made for her birthday, the bright eyes, the coconut, coloured napkins your new deck and recently renovated stylish bathroom from Park and Clarke planned by that man we saw on the telly An elegant claw bath and retro, floral wallpaper with Rimu of course for fittings after all this was the 80’s. We used to say ‘life’s too short to stuff a mushroom’ but you did for one dinner party stuff mushrooms Oh we were glorious in the suburbs in our cul-de-sac overlooking the sea You and me, you and me It wasn’t a flash suburb and the sea was far off but we could see it all the same And the sun sank earlier than we wanted Life is too short to stuff mushrooms We found that out when you left us leaving your girl not even a teenager breaking all our hearts Sometimes I want to surprise him, iron a whole batch of freshly washed shirts, flattening those shoulder seam just like you