An aerial view of my childhood in the snow
From the top of the hill you see an aerial view of your childhood in the snow.
The row of tiny houses where you lived nine-years-old, fields,
dib-dabs of cows & sheep, the farm, the abattoir & you feel like
you are lying on the psychoanalyst’s couch as he takes you back to your childhood
to when you were that frightened little girl, it makes you feel queasy on the inside
you don’t want to go back there, the memories fragile like broken egg shells
you want only to remember sledging down Duffold Hill
snow spray in your hair, snow filling your boots, all feelings numbed by the cold
the sound of the plastic coal sack moving too fast on compacted snow
your body defying gravity.