The Linen Cupboard

Today the linen cupboard had to be dismantled

and moved out of the room with the Black Mould.

And once it was in pieces it was obvious that

the disgorged contents would have to be sorted.

Four drawers and three shelves worth

of sheets (single and double), duvet covers, pillow cases,

vintage curtains, lace panels, embroidered tablecloths,

napkins, quilts, baby blankets, shawls, towels,

counterpanes, eiderdowns, picnic cloths, tray cloths...

four drawers and three shelves worth of memories

stretching back past first big bed, to cot, to Moses basket,

to first flat, to first house, to student digs,

to childhood home, to aunty's room, to grandparents' home

and then suddenly pre-me, into real history.

It was 1941, and a baby, a sister I was never to meet, 

born that Christmas Eve,

 was to be christened.

A christening robe had to be made, in wartime,

from whatever was available.

I think it might even have been

a lace curtain,

lined with silky fabric

perhaps from one of my mother's slips,

and decorated with a length of brittle gold ribbon.

It survived the Blitz.
I am astonished that it has survived my casual custodianship.
I will buy some acid-free tissue paper
and re-store it with the care that it deserves.