May 2021 5 86 Report
Carol Ann Duffy poem help please?

It is called Penelope. I understand the first verse and half of the last verse.

At first, I looked along the road

hoping to see him saunter home

among the olive tree,

whistle for the dog

who mournded him with his warm head on my knees.

Six months of this

and then i noticed that whole days had passed

without my noticing.

I sorted cloth and scissors, needle, thread

thinking to amuse myself,

but found a lfietime's industry instead.

I sewed a girl

under a single star - cross-stitch, silver silk -

running after childhood's bouncing ball.

I chose between three greens for the grass;

a smoky pink, a shdow's grey

to show a snapdragon gargling a bee

I threaded walnut brown for a tree,

my thimble like an acorn

pushing up through umber soil.

Beneath the shade

I wrapped a maiden in a deep embrace

with heroism's boy

and lost myself completely

in a wild embroidery of love, lust, lessons learnt;

then watched him sail away

into the loose gold stitching of the sun.

And when the tohers came to take his place,

disturb my peace,

I played for time.

I wore a widow's face, kept my head down,

did my work by day, at night unpicked it.

I knew which hour of the dark the moon

would start to fray,

I stitched it.

Grey threads and brown

pursued my needle's leaping fish

to form a river that would never reach the sea.

I tried it. I was picking out

the smile of a woman at the centre

of this world, self-contained, absorbed, content,

most certainly not waiting,

when I heard a far-too-late familiar tread outside the door.

I licked my scarlet thread and aimed it surely at the middle of the needle's eye once more.

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