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.