Ultrasound Poem by Angela Topping

Ultrasound



We were spies on her world -
her safe house of skin. She
was etched in silver: moving, human.

She swam in a booming cave,
fathoms down. Heavy rope mooring her.
Round face, round eyes, ooh of mouth.

Gingerbread baby, currant eyes.
At home, I twist wool around needles,
craft garments, every stitch a wish.

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Angela Topping

Angela Topping

Widnes, Cheshire
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