'Cracks in the Mirror' Poetry & photography: poetry and social comments
Television
My sister, a seamstress was the first in our street to buy TV, an ugly,
shiny mahogany box in the corner, and since it was early afternoon and
no program on, stood there blinking as having dust in its eye.
Monday, film night on TV, the whole neighbourhood came and brought
things to be sewn; curtains drawn even though it was summer and still
daylight, we sat in darkness, in silence caused by our awe.
Back then the TV was run by people who wanted to educate us and we
resisted all the Bergman movies, yet we watched enthralled by
having a cinema at home that brought news and weather forecasts
Glistening cars in the rain, where her house once stood there is now
a parking lot; I’m the only one alive, but every face, the evenings are
etched on my mind, glass clear in black & white
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