THE mother in Lesley Glaister’s word portrait has obviously been supremely creative in her domestic sphere. The piece comes from Visiting the Animal, the first poetry collection from the novelist and dramatist, winner of both Somerset Maugham and Betty Trask Awards (Mariscat Press, £6).

WISH

for my mother

If it were possible to wish a dream,

this is the dream I’d wish for you,

(who knitted, sewed and cooked, made tapestry

and patchwork, chutney and macramé,

tumbled pebbles till they gleamed,

smashed plates for mosaic plaques,

decorated rooms, made toffee apples, ice-cream,

chocolate sauce, grew tomatoes,

frothed cream from top of the milk to fill gateaux,

made costumes, shades for lamps and knitted dolls)

a palace filled with everything you’d made,

room after room, for you to wander through,

taste and touch, to marvel at all

the differences you’ve made, big and small

– and us standing in a line in mittens – even those we’ve lost.