Quiet Kittens

Behind NHS frames, a pink plastic eyepatch.

Deaf, she wore a hearing aid, switched on

only when the priest came to visit.

Hands, gnarled by arthritis, were turkey claws

with which she lifted a huge teapot, sawed bread

and dealt cards from the bottom of the pack.

When she lost her toes, the hospital prescribed

surgical boots. Heavy, black leather lace-ups

she wouldn’t be seen dead in.

Instead, a visit to Freeman, Hardy & Willis

with Uncle George, to bring home a pair

of Quiet Kittens several sizes too big.

‘You mean Hush Puppies, Gran?’ we shouted.

Resourceful to the end, she stuffed the gaps

with cotton wool and shuffled on for years.