Book of Joys: Mandolin

“She plays the
mandolin like she’s
removing her own
appendix!” – that
much the mother
remembers.
The tea goes cold
before she finds afresh
Earl Grey.
Sun coming up, it’s
afternoon.
She’s no longer
married: no
children.
Did she commute to
Kingston?
“She plays viola like
there’s budgee on her
elbow,” – that much the
mother remembers,
between humming an
old hymn and an old
hymn: you go, make
her tea.