Inheritance

No-one knows the people of bone
or why my drunken grandpa brought them home
from an auction room on Goldspink Lane,
shipyard wages blown
on beer, cigarettes and porcelain.
Their unexpected arrival, smooth and brittle,
put grandma in a flutter
flapping about with her feather duster,
finding the best place for aristocracy.
The old king with daughter at his knee
and her lover, typecast, ensnared eternally
by some secret quandary,
unaware of their position,
centre stage.

On a white cherry blossom day
I sipped cider with my lover on Goldspink Lane
while Player’s No 6 sucked grandpa away,
left grandma alone with royalty.
No-one knows their story, how it ends.
They hover inside my door, uninvited,
the bone people atop the tall cabinet
next to the clock.
I make my entrances
and exit,
looking up as I pass by.

 

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Note 1:- The subject of this statue remains a mystery.  The figures appear mythological or Shakespearean.  The object is about 18 inches tall and is made from Parian Ware, a type of bisque porcelain imitating marble.  The material was popular for sculpture in Victorian times and was developed around 1845 by the Staffordshire pottery manufacturer Mintons.  It was named after Paros, the Greek island renowned for its fine-textured, white marble.  It was prepared in a liquid form and cast in a mould, therefore suitable for mass production.

 

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