I saw a bride splendid in white garments
I saw a woman with one hundred children 
The children plump and firm within her arms,
But some fell down or strangers took and ate them

Dada taught me cards.
Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.
A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.
His big belly like a cannon ball.

When Harry went away
he stole a part of Mum.
No-one warned us. 
No-one said.
We looked and looked for ages – 

Standing by the river, my face grew
into a flat fish and floated off
to a lily pad, and I was lonely
without myself, without my twin.