The Academi Cardiff International Poetry Competition

Evelyn Cook

Crone

I shall not, I think, grow
round, brown and sweet as a cobnut,
but sour and suck-cheeked
as a December crab-apple. I shall sit,
narrow-eyed, wide-kneed, clot-veined,
in a chair by the porch,
malodorous as slurry.

I shall slew gossip with rancour,
dispense trench-mouthed wisdom,
breathe on the embers of old feuds,
espouse boundary disputes,
and cast pervading doubt
regarding the parentage
of the village’s chidren.

Those same village children
will find me repellant,
but be unable to run
from my gin-trap of tales
of ailments, vile cures, Rubik’s cube,
drowned farmgirls and kittens.
I will cause many a wetted bed.

Naturally, my cottage,
unkempt and unlovely, with its
inappropriate windows, will ensure
depression in property values,
an explosion of dandelions.
There will be nostalgia, I know,
for the use of the ducking stool.

And when incomers ask of me,
as I know they always will, if
I’ve lived here the whole of my life,
I’ll stretch into my bumpkin smile,
narrow eyes, and give the unvarying reply:
     Oh, no my dears,
     no, certainly not yet.

Evelyn Cook lives in a village in Northumberland, where she writes and campaigns to prevent the demolition of historic buildings. A former teacher, she is keen on the wider promotion of poetry as something to be enjoyed by everyone. Published work includes poems on giant posters in stations on Newcastle Metro, and she has read on local radio. Currently she is writing a series of poems in conjunction with the SAVE Trust’s rescue and repair of Castle House in Bridgwater, Somerset. She has an MA in creative writing.