Cherry Stones
By Emma White
At five years old my grandmother
taught me to spit a cherry stone,
how to tug the stem between
your teeth and bite to the pip.
Her old hands like creased silk
over a paper bag of shining fruit.
Smoking in a long summer dress
or 1950s pleated skirt and blouse,
Norah had a glamorous youth
before work and my grandfather’s
dialysis machine made their mark.
She kept it hidden when the cherries
dyed my clothes and kitchen towels
with blotches of dark magenta,
a thin juice running through
the fabric like watercolour.
The house laden with sickness –
her faint purple bruises, soft
foods and floral bedsheets.
On her last nights, my father
found her in the bathroom
alone, coughing blood.
The same sour taste lingering
on the tongue, a new lesson
rinsing down the pipes.
Emma White
Emma is a playwright, dramaturg and poet. Her work has an understated lyricism and centres women’s voices. She is a BBC New Creative; her audio drama Pearl is part of Radio 4 Extra’s drama anthology. Her poems include For Rosie (Apricot Press) and Fourteen (Queer by Gum). Her plays include Havisham (Theatre503, Omnibus Theatre, Columbus State University) and Ophelia (The Old Red Lion, Upstairs at the Western, Arena Theatre). Emma has also written articles such as ‘Nothing About Us Without Us’ for Women Theatre Justice, and she currently facilitates workshops with Trafford Libraries.
Photo credit: Oriol Portell
Apricot Press 