For years she sold cabbage.
Red cabbage, green cabbage,
Garlic and ginger,
big white radishes,

beetroot and celery -
only certain kinds of vegetables -
cut with a big knife on a board
at the back of her stall.

She wore a headscarf and tweed coat,
black money apron, glasses.
Looked like my mum.
Sounded like she smoked.

I didn’t notice she had gone,
until months later, in the fabric shop
behind the stalls, I was looking
at a box of brightly coloured felt.

The voice behind me said
“My test results have come”
and told of her appointment
for an operation, on 4 January.

How she was planning her trips
to the building society
around her 10 days in hospital.
How she hoped no-one else needed the bed.

4 January 2001