shipwreck

after the titanic sank
I swam for six weeks
against the ice-cold sea

was battered at last
against a rock,

so here I squat now
growing a beard of icicles in the storm
that howls across the barren islet,
and desperately labour
to obliterate the three kinds of grief -
for those who have drowned,
for those who live,
and for myself.

while far behind me,
washed up on the shoreline,
all that I once loved
is decaying now,
waiting to be discarded for good:

  my case with the music in it
  my book with the words in it
  my trunk with the recipes in it
  my soul with all that I felt

so I start anew now
in the frozen wasteland
for time is


seemingly endless

last tomorrows

last sunbeam

last cigarette

last eagle’s soar

last kiss

last steps

last smile

last breath

last thought

.

but still

your clothes have no owner
your books
your cushion

the you in me
needs them still

a long finish

you were the soil from which I drew
you were the rain that kept me alive
you were the sun that lit my leaves
you were the cask in which I aged

the soil is barren now
it does not rain
and the sun is black

only the eagle remains

my new world

life erupts in a thousand colours
yellow green perfume of lilac
into the living glare of sunlight
blessing our shortcomings —

seen from behind
my defensive carapace of
black clothing
relegated I am
to the geriatric darkness
of working through bereavement

you do not see me here.
you don’t even have eyes anymore

I hope you don’t mind
that I put down in words
how wonderful life was
while you were in the world

there's a light over at the frankenstein's place

The waitress looks like David Gilmore. TV:
'George Clooney is in Sudan protesting against violence'
Yeah right, the guy says at the next table. Breaking news, ay?
'Twelve children shot dead in Palestine'. So my kind of kind of news, innit? As if. When’s football on?
Another bloke, late 50s, gelled hair, checkered shirt put on by wife:
I was alone at home till half past three - missuz was at a corpse's viewing. Neat, innit?
First bloke: Yeah right... I bet she was having fun somewhere else.

Stage 4: ANGER

crime scene, revisited

T -20     the chemo room
           where your last treatment wasn’t completed

T -19     the hospital
           where you lay in the east wing

T -6      the gloomy pit under the staircase
          where we sat, and you smoked the last cigarette of your life

T -4       the bed
           where we left our last battleships unfinished
                 you never saw my ships. I saw yours after you died

T +8hs   the meal room
          where my world was shattered

T +31    back in the sun
          that is still black