Here is another of her poems. This first appeared in issue 19 of the Liverpool poetry journal erbacce in 2010.
Our breakfast table is a mandala:
at its corners white plates and cups of tea and coffee
flanked by cutlery of stainless steel,
blue and white Japanese bowls are dotted round,
in the middle a basket of bread
surrounded by jars of various colours.
At intervals hands move towards the center
to choose a croissant or a piece of zopf
but instead of calm chanting, there are raised voices.
A child screeches: “It’s my turn, listen!”
“Stop chewing so loudly, you’re disgusting”.
They lunge for each other,
prodding in whichever way might provoke
until one picks up a fork, yells and stabs
straight through the bread,
pinning the basket to the table.
“Up to your room!”
Off she storms,
leaving a flawed mandala in her wake.
There are also mornings when
words and smiles flow like sand
small shifts in mood don’t damage the picture
for a few minutes, it is still,
everything in its place
until the table is cleared.
Esther de Vries