Through a Glass Darkly
Behind this bottle of Pastis I see my Father
disguised as a cat the past creeps up behind him
shameless secrets piled high as a jumble sale
the ones that huddle together around the bed
at 3 a.m. wringing their hands complaining
The pale wolf that was my Mother lies
abandoned on the ground
the whited sepulchre she truly was
now nothing more than history
Youth lingers at the bottom of a glass
an insistent vortex beckoning beckoning
oily yellow hot as ice cold as fire
the world looks better with this golden glow
the future’s fluorescent the future’s Aperol
Daphne writes poems, short stories, novellas, flash fiction. Work published in print/on line in magazines and anthologies internationally.
Daphne now lives in Fremantle, W. Australia. She reads regularly at Perth Poetry club. She has recorded two podcasts for ILAA on Kalamunda radio.
Her pamphlet The Blue Boob Club is published by Indigo Dreams Press: https://www.indigodreams.co.uk/daphne-milne/4594486684.