Sally Evans – Two Poems

If You Are Angry Said My Mother

If you are angry said my mother,
take a hockey ball onto the grass
and hit it around with your hockey stick.
It will make you feel better.
If? If ever? I dwelt in anger,
throve on it. Nothing in life
would make me sit down and cry,
but I rode on, throve on anger.
It took me wild places till I learned
to kick anger before it meant violence.
To hit the unfeeling hockey ball
was one thing; quite another
to attack my then husband’s lover
(who had arrived in my absence
and tidied up my house)
with an ironing board.

If you are angry said my mother,
take a hockey ball onto the grass
and hit it around with your hockey stick.
It may not make you feel better,
but your hockey will improve.

Search

This is the piece of paper I can’t find.
I can’t show you it, I’m sifting
through heaps on the desk, on shelves, on the floor.
It drives me crazy. I know I had it yesterday.
I always keep it safe. It is white, oblong, slim, shifting,
printed in black with some sort of header.
It’s here somewhere. Yesterday

it was my MOT, Monday
it was the phone bill, Tuesday
it’s a friend’s poem, well, a copy of it.
Wednesday it’s Tuesday, Thursday
the card I bought for my brother.
Last week it was a letter from history
and now it ‘s a packet of sweet pea seeds.

It could be my brain, all my memories
thrown down all over the floor,
under the bed, or in houses
I don’t live in any more.
It could be people I used to love
and still do in some pigeonhole.
It could be the whole concept of love,

which turns into self preservation
or something more or less horrid,
it could be something I thought was on paper
but is actually an internet file.
Ah, I remember. I pinned it on the fridge.
I’ve forgotten what it said, and it ‘s
too long ago to matter.

SALLY’S NEW E-BOOK The Honey Seller