POETRY*

At Christmas  Two women doing dishes in the sink, both downcast, both trying to think, one sighs to herself: she doesn’t look happy, there’s no way she’s going to be tied down, not free. The other, a mother, has eyes bright with tears falling slowly, wipes them away, picks up the toddler and hugs him fiercely. One year has gone and it’s nearly Christmas Eve. One woman’s dressing for a poolside party everybody will be there, everyone who counts, mustn’t …

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