Aventurine (IP)

We thought cloisters were a sort of shellfish.
We thought Wigan was on the coast.
We thought wishes were granted on full moons
if made over a dish of water.
We dug spoons of earth from the garden
for spells, hung
aventurine in tiny parcels of green silk
above our doors. We laughed at ourselves
in swimming costumes from the catalogue
and made fudge. And shook with fear
at the pictures.
And wanted all the things we want now.
Cloisters are not shellfish
Wigan is not coastal, even though it has a pier
and wishes are seldom granted wherever they're made.
I saw a green silk parcel hanging above your door
after you died. Snatched it down, took it home.
Inside the dried earth of your garden, the nubbin of aventurine.
It didn't bring you a fortune
but wealth
can be measured in other ways my love.
Us, in costumes in the full length glass, laughing,
knowing we are loved.