MAKING A MARK ON THE FABRIC

SLOWLY DISSOLVING,

WHILE THE SLEEP PRESERVING HER BREATH

IN WARM DEW, ERASES THE TRACES

I ONLY REMEMBER FROM PICTURES OF OTHER PICTURES,

LIKE GENERATIONS OF VIOLINS, DANCING ON THE TABLES

AND SHIPS SINKING FURTHER AND FURTHER

DOWN THE DUVETS OF FORGOTTEN FORESTS MADE OF COAL.

THE BIRDS SING THEIR LAST SONG

TO THE NEIGHBOUR WHO REMEMBERS ANOTHER TIME THAN I DO.

HE YELLS AT THE CATS AS THEY RUN THROUGH THE HEDGE

WHERE THE STONES GROW OLD.

AND GREAT GRANDMOTHER FALLS A SLEEP IN THE CHAIR

WITH THE EARS. HE MADE FROM THE TREE IN THE GARDEN

THAT WAS NEAREST THE PEARS.

IT WAS FREEZING THE DAY SHE WALKED IN

AND TOLD ME THAT THE FIRE HAD TAKEN HIS BODY

AND I KICKED THE WALL AND REMEMBERED

THE DAY I FELL INTO THE HARBOUR

AND THE CANDY DISSOLVING INTO A WATERY MASS,

THE WINE POURING OUT FROM HIS HANDS AND HIS WATCH

AS HE JUMPED IN, TO SAVE THE PIECES OF MEMORIES

SOMEONE FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN.

LIKE THE PICTURES OF SLEEP I CAN’T DEVELOP

BUT WAKE WITH IN MY HANDS.