Mannequin
Late mother one late
morning in February as the day
warmed and she cooled,
no longer she but a mannequin,
startling, waxy and inert –
the first I'd ever met
in a chapel of rest, lidded
doll's eyes pleading no more;
and quite unexpected, unlike
death on the screen – the surprise
was less the absence of life
than the pale clay left behind.
Huw Gwynn-Jones comes from a line of published poets in the Welsh bardic tradition but, until his recent retirement to Orkney, had never written a line himself. After a career in business, he writes poetry to find a different way of hearing the world. He hopes to publish his debut pamphlet, A Sky of Stars, in the near future.