It would have been my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary today.
September 4th (someone’s wedding anniversary)
The graveyard has no heart or history a terrible now
of poor hours of sidelined souls.
I am frantic with disquiet and sudden memory dreaming
of him younger his eye falling on other flowers
pink poppies all new amid the dying and dust
behind the storms laying their backs to the living, the frown of the living
creases of sadness and despair. Does it matter
my fingers are an absence?
when the graveyard still breathes, gentle as a blind hand when
its language is lost when its weddings are farewells.
From ‘Throats Full of Graves’ (Lapwing Publications, 2013)