Here is the poem of mine that is in South, issue 50. www.southpoetry.org
After she died we found it in the cupboard.
‘A gadget,’ we both said, hingeing the metal flaps
to see if we could discover what it was for.
It went into a box we took to the charity shop
along with the pastry wheel and sweetcorn forks.
They told me it was for baking potatoes.
‘Makes life easier’, she would have said, ‘my gadget,’
smiling with satisfaction, trying with all her motherness
to foist one on us as well, as though the best of life
were to only to be found in things that made it better.
In the empty flat I saw her sitting there,
eyes locked on to the television, remote control
easily to hand, tea infuser ready to endow the day
with labour-saving comfort. When we came to visit,
those familiar friends sat closer to her than family.