By Abigail M. Jones
I can never complete
The jigsaw of you;
There are too many missing pieces
And I feel like
I’m losing more
Each time I try to remember.
So I want to frame
The pieces I do have,
Even if I complete only
A tiny part of the portrait:
Yves Saint-Laurent perfume,
black and blue boxes
Lilac-rimmed glasses
Pottering in the garden,
turning up soil and flinging away
weeds for the dog to catch
Sighs of exasperation
Sighs of contentment
One corner of your mouth upturned
in a wry smile
Piles of books you devoured
Word puzzles that didn’t stand a chance
Rhubarb crumble and
gooseberry fools
Aprons with frayed strings
A sewing machine that lived
in the cellar
Bobbed black hair streaked with
Stress or wisdom
(perhaps they’re the same)
Buying meat from the same butcher’s
every week
Sunday gin and tonic with lime
Ironing to the drama of Eastenders so
you could switch off for a while
Black coffee, no sugar,
Black high heels in shoe boxes
under the bed
Almost black toast
Flowers in gardens, pots, vases
on sofas, walls, dresses
Elegant lunches at Lyzzick Hall so
you never had to cook on your birthday
Catalogues of toys and books
of clothes and travel
Organising trips
Checking temperatures
Being on-call
Pens with strange drug-company names
printed on the side
Diagnosing glandular fever
Stitching a barbed wire wound
when a child dropped from a fence
Saving a falling ice cream
dropped from a child’s hand
Rescuing my Barbie from the middle of the road
Leaving out medical journals
Nonchalantly flipped open on the
kitchen table
Showing infections to put me off
getting a belly piercing
Tracking down a lost contact lens
when I was crying for vanity
Church and charity
Chastising because you cared
Bedtime stories because you cared
Standing at the staircase window
watching cows in the fields
Delicate Christmas decorations
all colour-coordinated
muted and sophisticated
These are only scraps of you
But I want to hold on tightly
To each and every one.
Abigail M. Jones writes poems, some of which have been published in online journals such
as Visual Verse and Harness Magazine, and short stories; Coffee on the Wall was published in
2021 in an anthology of horror stories, ‘A Diary of Delirium’. Eclectic in style, subjects range
from depression and mental health to mythology and feminism, but she loves playing with
assonance and etymology in her works.
Born and raised in the Lake District, she now lives and works in Girona, Catalonia, as an
English teacher and coordinator of English book clubs. Her particular interests, aside from
scribbling and devouring books, are painting, hiking, wine-tasting, and trying to find the
perfect tiramisu.
Hot Pot Magazine 