Lazarus Painted Orange
carnation, lily, lily, rose
my Granny’s favourite flowers poised to the left of the front door
the Turkish carpet inched itself away from the lilies
I would straighten the carpet from time to time
line it up with the door and the ascent of stairs in frame
only by dinner was it poised to the right again, tassels flared and astray
poisoned by lilies, using stampeding feet to angle away
i liked the lilies so disobeyed instructions not to touch
i stroked the anthers, staining my fingers with tangerine dust
carnation, lily, lily, rose
the dining room was painted a deep and vibrant red
offset by brushed gold effects
Turkish fitted lights bloomed mosaic fractals to walls
a game for children sat patiently at dinner to count triangles and squares of diffuse light
88, 89
i would dip my fingers in wax and peel them back
find specks of orange pollen, tiny, if that
and be quick to hide the evidence of, scattering the wax
after dessert, my family spilled to circle the fire, depending on the season, inside or out
i wait back with my Grandfather, the last to leave
he’d position the needle on jazz from the east and taught me to use the candle snuffer
it was like a pair of scissors, weighty, wax-laden
i nipped the wick unintentionally
but enjoyed when i did, something new to play with
waxy charcoal strands to squash between my thumb and pointer and I’d sit
pushing colours on my fingertips
images of Gilfach Farm return out of the blue
and i consider them lazarene
listening through a slumber, for me to snuff out a candle
or straighten an uneven carpet
to redact the decades and shrink me down
to red painted rooms with the gold offsets
and carpets, lilies, lilies and roses everywhere, everywhere
i preserved these images in amber, lit from within.
Ash Hewitt © 2021
