Sunrise on Henrietta Street

and then across the road to 52…

silver-haired Mrs Rawlings stirs to the morning sounds
makes no attempt to engage it, these bones take time to move
doesn’t seem much point when Tom’s no longer around

lingering in the tender glow of the world she’s found
here Tom still carries youth in his gait and eyes
a terrain where only death is earth-bound

her neighbours, the Browns

grandparents with a family reunion planned

gathering for a trip to the West Indies
everyone is coming who can

Everton and Louisa glad to be alive on this earth
hardly able to contain their joy at seeing the family
all assembled in the fragrant land of their birth

Yvonne McCalla is a member of the Speakeasy collective and Cultureword’s Identity black writers workshop. Her work has appeared in several anthologies, and she was the winner of the 2008 Manchester Cotton and Slave Trade Poetry Competition.

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One Response to “Sunrise on Henrietta Street”

  1. February 12, 2009 at 5:19 pm, charlotte said:

    love it!


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