The First Few Days After Death

A poem


Looking in through a downstairs window.

New and old flames.

Many movements,

reminiscing in rooms.

Distant and dark.

Shapes,

suffering, suffocating but

breathing.

A one person less space.

A hand on a window

leaves no mark

as others look out.

He loved that garden. 

That was his tree.

What will we do with his bikes? 

Do you know a charity?

Looking in through a downstairs window.

 

 

 

 

 

© swissterrace 2020
Views: 1713
critique and comments welcome.
Subscribe
Notify of
2 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Elfstone

Terse, tense – as the emotions at those times can be. I like the mood created by the sparseness of this.
(I think there’s a typo in “That what his tree.” ?)
Elfstone

Flag Content