My Granny’s Corset

Listen to Ann’s poem Granny’s Corset now – just press on the link below.

Granny’s Corset

Push open the door and enter her room
with heavy beige wallpaper
and brown gloss paint.

Grandma, propped up with pillows,
crisp white sheet,
pure silk eiderdown,
raises a frail hand in greeting.

Time to cram her into her corset.
I stagger from chair to bed,
with the well washed cotton contraption.
I am eight and grown up.
I fasten the buckles, thread tapes,
tug at cords, clip on suspenders,
under her orderly instructions.

I help her into her flowery frock,
brush her hair, dab on some powder,
pass her a mirror for her approval.
A bomb damaged Grandma’s back
but mother says she is indomitable.

She glides down the staircase ready
to organise the rest of the house.