The wall

In old age my parents lived like teenagers.
They stuck things on the wall with Blu Tack,
collected fluffy toys and cute cat pics.
Their glassware came from op shops.
They hung old sheets on the curtain rails.

They let the trees overgrow the deck,
fed leftover meat to the birds.
They had their dinner at nine pm,
sat watching TV hours after midnight,
slept until late in the morning.

They used the wall as a headboard
and laid waste to the carpet.
Even in summer they felt so chilled
they never opened the windows.
They spent their money on road trips and alcohol

and let the woodwork deteriorate.
Now it leaks.
They didn’t think they needed
to buy a dehumidifier
or DampRid for the wardrobe.

They failed to notice the smell
or the black mould
on the wall
or maybe they didn’t care.
They told us they didn’t need our help.

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Jackson lives in Ōtepoti. They have four published poetry collections and a PhD in Writing. In Aotearoa, their poems have appeared in Turbine | Kapohau, Poetry Aotearoa Yearbook, and other journals. They were born in Cumbria, England, and grew up in Australia. writerjackson.com