Elfs' Jars Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

I study her jars stacked on shelves
in the plaster peeling downstairs loo
(space is at a premium in our house)
papyrus labels gone archaeological
but not the love she bottled up
inside, crammed in the genie
who lives in the compost bin
each jar messaged with fruit
borne of her earth
with fingers that soothed
with grateful care
as though
it were stars she hermetically sealed
as though
in her jars, mankind could be healed