it hurts me how readily the words come:
dad
dad's house
to see my father
dad will be here
my father
tidy the spare room
single sheets for a single bed
2 pillows
1 towel
i don't want it to be easy.
how is it possible so quickly to adapt?
to move from plural to singular?
we to me?
they to he?
a pair to alone?
suggesting at some level
(though I don't see where or how)
i know she's not returning
ellision excision
swift surgical
pain
the precision
of a moment
an extraction
completed, final, done.
now you see her
now you don't
My vocabulary has adapted
- healed -
but
i can't stop scratching at the scar
-
loss sometimes demands to be recognised wallowed bathed submerged in indulged Felt A friend of a friend described it as the "dark luxur... -
not so lost for words these days pouring spewing out in jumbles inspiration of desperation I was not so wordy before nor ever so deeply sile...
-
We'd known it was the last time though no one said this task you'd set upon with borrowed help in borrowed hours and days determined...
2 comments:
Lettuce, I didn't feel I knew you sufficiently to add to the list of condolences but reading your poems today have touched me with their poignancy and I shall read them again.
I think it was the latest one about your dad - you'll know from my blog that I still have my mum, but we lost my dad nearly 34 years ago. With the parents reversed I felt what you feel in that poem.
I like the pause in your work, it holds a lot of weight. Good uses of space to give your words more impact.
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