Thursday 5 July 2018


for my mother

Already I have forgotten the sound of your voice
Calling out my name

And the way your mouth buckled when you smiled,
Your hand raised to mend it

And you, stately in profile, your Roman nose
Less regal when you fell off a step ladder

Inspecting the paint patch he’d missed,
Taking your own swipe at it

Landing in Emergency. Nose re-set.
The last shot of you together, taken from across

The lake, walking in file, you behind him,
A tree trunk between you, a lake between us

The trunk- a portal you couldn’t pass through-
Three years later the ground opened up for you.

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