Superstition and Heartbreak by Ceinwen Haydon

Originally published at The Bluebird Review



By Ceinwen Haydon


Three dungaree-ed young girls jump pavement cracks, pick petals from flowers, he loves me, he loves me not. They’ll try any ruse to bring their absent father back, their loyal, angered mother won’t let him call the shots.


Pick petals from flowers, he loves you, he loves you not – he’s taken his bike, the clearest sign he’ll stay away. Their loyal, angered mother won’t let him call the shots: his daughters can’t be played with, caught in his sway.


He’s taken his bike, the clearest sign he’ll stay away, Mum blocks Dad’s number on her girls’ mobile phones, their daughters can’t be played with, caught in his sway. She forgets their mirrored faces trace the lines of his bones.


Mum blocks Dad’s number on her girls’ mobile phones,

still they’ll try any ruse to bring their absent father back,

She forgets their mirrored faces trace the lines of his bones

as three dungaree-ed, sad girls jump and pavements crack.

 

Ceinwen E. Cariad Haydon, [MA Creative Writing, Newcastle 2017]


Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been widely published in web magazines and in print anthologies. Her first chapbook was published in July 2019: 'Cerddi Bach' [Little Poems], Hedgehog Press. Her first pamphlet is due to be published in 2021. She is a Pushcart Prize (2019 & 2020) and Forward Prize (2019) nominee. She believes everyone’s voice counts. She is developing practice as a participatory arts facilitator, working with elders and intergenerational groups.





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