The day she died she cooked a pot of food
Pumpkin
The meat was browned in sugar
Dark and sweet
The pumpkin soft and thick
Mushy chunks of orange in brown gravy
Shining with the fat she cooked it in
Delicious stew.
The day she died my mother brought her pot
And filled it to the brim with
Pumpkin stew
Her mum knew
Best how to make a hearty meal
And steal a heart with food.
The day she died five beggars fed
From that same pot
Of pumpkin stew on bread
Wrapped in waxed paper
And the warmth of her tireless smile.
The day she died she washed out her pot
Wiped clean with bread
She had begrudged herself
The last beggar at the door
More hungry than she was.
The pot washed
The kitchen cleaned
She cleaned herself for prayer
Then bent to pray…
And was found that way
The day my granny died.