In a Lewes antique emporium
of hired out un-manned stalls
[not high on a list of desirable
places to visit] – was that relic
of my mother’s auld routines –
her hard-edged Carmen roller
set was there [not her own of
course – another’s up for sale]
& I held it – re-runs of my past
in my simmer of memories – I
knew its shapes [detail-hit] &
contents [that red switch with
a backlit indicator – deep pots
of hair grips & a slider to set a
level of conditioning curl] – its
hair-free parade of rollers led
me off with each one’s weight
& matching arrays of pegs – in
my hand one sat hot – heated-
up & about to be rolled under
my mother’s locks [there may
have been one time she put a
curl on one of our heads – but
four boys off-set dressing ups]