A Poem by Maria Taylor

My Mother’s Notebook for English Lessons

Mum practised English in a notebook.
Her first lines read: I came to London in 1962.
It was April. Camden Town was beautiful,
the only writing by her I ever saw
which wasn’t an X or a hurried signature.
At some point she threw the book away –
regretted it. I still see its Silvine crest.
My hands still hold its surprising weight.

London, you were Mum’s fickle host
replacing bud with icy breath in winter,
but you greeted her with blossom.
Pink petals lined your Highgate streets
drifting love letters from a deceiver,
all those promises you couldn’t keep.

Maria Taylor is a British Cypriot poet who lives in Leicestershire.  Her poetry has been highly commended in the Forward Prizes. Her latest collection is Dressing for the Afterlife, with Nine Arches Press. Her debut Melanchrini was shortlisted for the Michael Murphy Memorial Prize. Her poems and reviews have appeared in a wide variety of publications, including The Rialto, Magma, the Guardian, and the TLS.