My mother is locked in a jar of ginger

I hear her battling with the lid, trying to hump herself out of the sickly liquid. It suits me not to let her out. I hear her invective – ‘shite’ and ‘bugger’. I shall continue to disappoint. Her suspender is stuck; she is tugging at her roll-on. Let’s have some music, something with a thump to it.

from ‘Inventory’ (Shearsman Books 2008)