Your mother smiled with charming hate each time she let me in.
She said that writing stories was lying and a sin,
this after I had told her
I wrote fiction.

At the end of every meal,
she would pick someone from her clan
to read the bible. I’m glad to say
that it was never me.

After the meal, during prayers
I wondered where I would begin to peel
the paper layers off the wall
that stood between us.

I should commence above the dark brown clock
that hammered headaches every quarter of the hour,
night and day.

I tried to understand
the after dinner conversation
but there wasn’t any.

We had to sleep apart, me in your room, you in the attic,
but you came back at nights, our breathing kept on hold
while we could hear the others
freely breathe.

On Sundays we would wait until they went to church
so we could make belated love.
One day the minister was ill. Your family surprised us
returning home too early.

But then they were surprised as well
to find us naked in the kitchen, erected
in the early morning light.
You spilled the salt and I looked back and laughed.

And every Monday crows would tell me
that I did not belong and should go home
and every Monday they were right.

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Comments on: "Sunday Surprise in the seventies" (9)

  1. brilliant, sensitively humorous, perceptive as a scalpel and wonderfully human – you are amazing Ina…

  2. I once had a friend with just such a family…the crows said the same to me.

  3. Oh I love this! I had a very similar expeience a long, long time ago!
    This made me smile out loud and cringe at the same time!! That feeling of being “found out”!!

    L&H xx

  4. You may be surprised that I also experienced a very similar situation when I was young and foolish – it all feels quite ridiculous now – well, I am getting that old! πŸ™‚ XO

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