the old woman pushes her pram
up and down the pavement
through the heart of St. Sampson’s
past the chazza shops and pharmacies
into zebra crossings where traffic stops
as it does for umpteen other women
who push prams on these same paths
but something about this one stands out
a strange sense of tragedy surrounds her
a yearning for the child she never had
she finds comfort in her fuzzy babies
a pair of floppy-eared bunnies resting
on a bed of straw inside the pram
she brings them with her everywhere
J. Archer Avary is a chameleon, a product of his environment, a restless wanderer. In past lives, he was a TV weatherman, punk rock drummer, champion lionfish hunter, and ocean conservationist.
At age 44, he still doesn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up. Maybe a poet?
He lives on a tiny island in the English Channel and is the editor of Sledgehammer Lit.