We bought the rosewood dining room suite
For our fifth wedding anniversary.
We had dusky pink cushions made
For the eight uncomfortable chairs.
You tied sixteen knots,
To attach each cushion to its chair.
You said I couldn’t tie them tightly enough
To stop the cushions sliding about.
My friend borrowed the chairs for a dinner party,
To celebrate her fortieth birthday.
We took the cushions off for ease of transport.
I struggled with each knot,
but succeeded in the end.
24 August 2008
This is one of my increasingly rare "divorce poems". Yesterday, Gerry came to pick up my chairs for Paula's 40th birthday dinner next Saturday. I was horribly struck, as I undid each knot, that the last time they were tied, was when Peter did them, about 15 years ago. The parallel between that, and the divorce, is of course, blindingly obvious. I just dashed this off today, so it may well need a lot more work, but next week is going to be unbelievably busy and stressful, so I thought I'd better get it down on paper, as I have been aware that I've hardly put anything up recently...
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