Veronica Byrne

Edition XXXXI

A Memory - by Veronica Byrne (Photo by Rebeca G. Sendroiu).jpgPhoto credit: Rebeca G. Sendroiu

A Memory

By Veronica Byrne

My grandmother washed the potatoes in a bucket outside the back-kitchen door

Using the handle of the sweeping brush she swirled them around in the grey water until it turned a rusty

The misshapen potatoes recently plucked from the ground, let go of their cloaks of clay

Revealing a pinkish hue like a newborn’s skin on a fine September day

My grandmother lifted the zinc bucket
a weight in an eighty-year old’s hands
and discarded the water
black and used, down the outside drain

My grandmother tall and thin with hair silver and long

Took her baptized fare inside before the Angelus rang

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