(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