SATURDAY 21 20
Since I was last out
yellow green has started to
appear on hedgerows.
SUNDAY 22 20
This Mother’s Day we
stay apart from each other
and others outside.
MONDAY 23 20
The Princess’s maids
fall into enchanted sleep.
She leaves for the moon.
TUESDAY 24 20
My dad said lino
printing would cut my hands to
ribbons. It hasn’t.
WEDNESDAY 25 20
When the letter comes
it’s still a shock, how call-up
papers must have felt.
THURSDAY 26 20
The fingernail new
moon, carving a crescent of
pearl in the darkness.
FRIDAY 27 20
The smell of thin smoke,
and the sound of a dog, creep through
the stripes of the blinds.
Seventeen 