Edith Bowman is talking about Steven Spielberg
and I’m thinking about stories that end well.
Edith Bowman is talking about Alex Ferguson
and hard work and staying young and I can see
autumnal scarves wrapped around a neck
holding up a made up face on a Sunday afternoon.
Edith Bowman is talking about Quentin Tarantino
and I can smell boiled gammon, hand cut
white bread, the swear words of Samuel L. Jackson
weaving in and out of the telly like crotchet needles.
Edith Bowman is talking about Steven Spielberg
and how she cried after interviewing him
and I join her. It’s raining in London
and my phone just told me
the matriarch left the family last night.

© Carl Burkitt 2023