It's Still Life

Piece #2: The One That’s Preposterous

He thinks of his mum when he eats
sliced white bread, the sort that sticks
on the back of your front teeth.

Ida, that’s his mum’s name. If she had
a middle name, he didn’t know it.
Probably didn’t much care. A name
wouldn’t change his side of the view.

Ida baked a loaf of bread each morning.
Except Sundays. And except for the day
when she came home with sliced bread
in a plastic bag from the corner shop.

Somebody’s doing it for me now, she said.

A few months later, his mum took a job at
his school. In the cafeteria. Baking bread.

Sometimes she’d still bake bread, special
Sundays, like Easter, otherwise she’d not
lift a hand to any task except to smack him
for not being near-dead still in church.

Or when he did an Oliver Twist, and asked
for a second helping of those crackers 
on the priest’s communion plate.

Ida’s hand always had the last word.

This is Piece Two (draft) of a multi-part project. The concept was originally created by Jim Simmerman, entitled “Twenty Little Poetry Projects”. The phrase “The Last Word” is from a Twiglets prompt. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021