The Garden's MemoryBy Louella Sullivan
A garden is harder than a marriage
you can’t throw sex or wine at it
to pacify the wilderness that threatens.
A garden remembers holds to
you laboured to weed out. As you
clear the Eastern Cape clay it springs
A climbing rose, a pale matriarch,
grows vicious despite my secateurs.
A pear tree, fat with lichen,
defiantly bears wizened fruit.
Louella Sullivan learned to type poems one-handed whilst bouncing small babies on her lap. She did an MA in Creative Writing at Rhodes in 2014 where she completed her thesis Bitten under Robert Berold. She is a Drama, History and English teacher as well as a part-time lecturer at Rhodes University. She has been published in Aerodrome, New Contrast, New Coin and Itch. Her poems have been described as "polished, poised and vivid". In 2016, her poem "Refugee" was longlisted for the Sol Plaatje European Union Poetry Award.