Veronica Aaronson

Grief

Under cover of darkness
a baboon climbed in
through a gap in the brickwork,
made himself at home in my house.
He’s up turned my vase,
scattered sunflower petals
over the sofa, like sterile confetti
bombed the floor
with my best Royal Doulton
and half-eaten fruit,
banana skins skulk, like black ice
waiting to bring me down.
In this mess,
I have no appetite,
I pace, unable to stay seated.

When I leave the house,
his shadow clings to my back.
Just as I start to forget,
he rummages through my hair
as though I need to be groomed.
In the silence of the night
he whispers your name
then adds
is gone forever.

Veronica Aaronson is one of the founders of Poetry Teignmouth and of the Teignmouth Poetry Festival. Winner of this year’s Dawlish Poetry Trail, she is a member of Moor Poets and enjoys reading in venues around the South West. She has just retired from a career as a psychotherapist where she used poetry in her work. She is particularly interested in how people’s histories colour their perception and the use of metaphor.

Veronica Aaronson is one of the founders of Poetry Teignmouth and of the Teignmouth Poetry Festival. Winner of this year’s Dawlish Poetry Trail, she is a member of Moor Poets and enjoys reading in venues around the South West. She has just retired from a career as a psychotherapist where she used poetry in her work. She is particularly interested in how people’s histories colour their perception and the use of metaphor.