Grief has the same secrecy 
as an empty tic tac box filled with
puddle water. The parachuting 
man we hid in the petrol cap 
of your Mum’s car, quick stolen, 
the handkerchief I buried in the trees.

I liked the embroidery. I like it now,
this grief and its stitches, it makes
me flower even through snot. Things
fly past the planet, roaring. I like
the axis, the counting down. Nostalgia
is a cutie, bean-filled Totoro.

The whirl of fur he lived in. His ancient
teeth that ripped me, the bad quality,
we went all over the world in love.
Paws are unshook hands- yet I'm shaken.
Don’t worry Dog, I’ll find you. In galaxies,
through death. I’ll always be your person.

No comments: