by Hannah Hodgson
We sit together as a barely recognised couple.
So I use the photo album as garden shears
to try and make a gap big enough for a chat.
She recognises her Howard in a photograph,
and looks at me like someone she’d met
on the bus.
She notices my teeth and wonders why they are a shade of cheese,
looks at my arms and scowls at crochet scars,
searches for hair that’s now as thin as summer cloud.
But she can’t find her Howard.
Her Howard rests in my wrinkles and hides in my cataracts.
How can this Howard love a woman convinced she’s only twenty three?
Hannah Hodgson is currently studying for her A Levels. Last year she won the Amnesty International Lyrcs youth award for a poem called ‘Nowheres citizen’. She runs the creative writing club at her school and is a member of Dove Cottage Young Poets.