Today’s poem from Sara Carroll responds to artwork by Daniel Goodwin. Read the full interview with Daniel HERE.
I asked Daniel to choose a piece of artwork for the writing prompt: “I have selected an ink and wash drawing of a woman’s head from the doorway of St Mary’s Bloxham. It’s quite badly corroded and, as I said, reminds me of someone that’s masked. I chose it because I would love to know what she thought or would be thinking now. Perhaps her voice could come out of the poems that people might write; or perhaps it she might help poets respond in their own voice. It will be great to see what happens!”
Woman
I was Eve. Slender as a fish.
The shape of my neck and chin
definite, sharp, intense. I was all
chestnut hair, dark lashes, plump lips.
He couldn’t take his eyes off
the resolute direction of my nose,
the diamond generosity of my smile.
I was Eve. Desired and cool as fine marble.
Now time’s ruthless pumice
rubs me out, rounds my bones,
files my skin, so that features
slide away like melting buttercream.
By slow erosion I slip into smooth
invisibility. I can sit alone, unseen
against a wall, eyes closed,
listening to anxious chatter,
rereading stories etched
under my lids, counting blessings
on stubs of fingers, broken toes.
I was Eve: one of a pair, part of a he.
Now I am me.
Abegail Morley 
Love this poem! It has such finely nuanced reflections on the aging process and the sense of identity shifting and evolving. Very good indeed. And it relates to swell to Daniel image. Colin
Brilliant poem. It captures the ageing process perfectly and the way age makes someone invisible. From a heritage poìnt of view it demonstrates the need to capture things before they disappear.
Thank you so much, Sara, for this moving and interesting response. You really did manage to give her a voice.
Thank you, Daniel. It’s a wonderful sketch and it fed into something I was working on with spooky synchronicity! I do feel the need to visit her in person now. Apologies for the slow reply – life in a pandemic, eh!
Indeed! She’s in the porch at St Mary’s Bloxham, Oxfordshire. Let me know if you ever do decide to make the trip.