My mother was a big fan of Billie Holiday’s I remember an album we had of hers With a big, beautiful, bright red mouth on the cover We listened to it often Such an enchanting voice So round and full of life Communicating every emotion I associated only pleasure with her But now, listening to the poem* I was struck by the way it felt: Vaguely disquieting at first As it slowly built a sense of dread And then: the narcs, the cigs, the fancy-dress boys descended And I started to squirm, my heart beat faster Until the full menace was revealed with The sediment in her throat *The Gardenia, by Cornelius Eady |