Mary Mary, once so contrary,
You captured him with your wild child ways,
Your intellect, your weirdness,
Your daring, your willingness
To open your legs by your mother’s grave.
Goth girl, adventurer, Regency visionary,
You followed him, you led him, two souls in sync.
Then motherhood caught you, claimed you for its own
Whilst he, untethered remained free yet alone.
You flapped his wings so that he could fly
But he writes he can no longer reach you,
As you water your window ledge herbs,
And listen for your baby’s cry.
I wonder did you think then of Harriet before you?
Ever fear the same fate as hers might befall you?

Mary Mary once so contrary,
How does your garden grow now?
Restrained, restricted, in pots, in a row.
Grieving dead children in foreign climes
He goes out to look for the pretty maids
In places you both used to go.
Same shit, just different times.

Kathryn Attwood