The greatest shock is touching the marble face of someone so loved and the message arriving through your fingers: this is no longer him.
The Viewing.
Dead: the colour of old cream,
his eyes shuttered shut;
so neat, besuited and slim,
weight he lost dying.
They made a basket of his fingers
with a rosary spilling down;
everyone said he looked lovely
but when I touched his face,
it wasn’t him at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment