|
in
collection, Watermarks, 2009,
Arrowhead
Press, ISBN 978-1-9048522-4-7
Three Months On
He comes in unannounced
and stands
at
my shoulder, watching as I return
cheap
cutlery to its drawer, reciting
in
my head the drilled-in list he learned
on
National Service: knife, fork, spoon –
but
no tin mug.
And
there the moment
breaks.
It feels like breathing out,
and
he is gone until recalled,
maybe
by the corkless bottle-stopper
hiding
on the shelf. When I found you
that
morning, crying, it was little things,
you
said, that ‘got you’. They get us
less
and less these days – most recently
Sinatra,
singing You Will Be My Music.
One
day soon I’ll frame a photograph.
Phil Kirby
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