You come into focus most clearly on windy Mondays,

Grandad's shirt sleeves applauding on the line,

curtains boiling at windows. Your cheeks, normally pale,

slapped red by sudden gusts; I see you bending,

stiff-backed, to retrieve a peg or yank a dandelion,

then your apron snarls itself up and your dress

lifts sharply to reveal the tops of stockings pinching

mottled thighs. I can hold you there for several seconds

until your hair escapes its pins and leaves you blurred.

From The Butcher 's Hands Smith Doorstop £6.95

The Poetry Book Society recommends

If you enjoy the poetry of Catherine Smith why not try The Florist's at Midnight by Sarah Maguire, Newborn by Kate Clanchy and Bunny by Selima Hill.