Poem 266

This is sadly beautiful I think, balancing a shared life lived, small kindnesses, as the end of days (the days of the end) are played out (a similar scenario to Poem 163 but from a different perspective) … written in 1984, another poem that could have should have gone in my Original Composition portfolio – perhaps I thought it was self-evidently too ‘made up’ given I was only twenty-four, that consequently it couldn’t speak to its subject with authority – but the sadness and sweetness of this scenario rings true for me now all these years later, it seems the poem was waiting for me to grow into it …

Tidying Up

The roses on the table
are still wet from the garden
she watches through the window
as he works
                      everything
will be pretty
for her to look out and see

death creaks in the corner
like a grandfather clock
a mourner too early
for the funeral tea
who tries not to be noticed

she sees him there
and her husband
in the garden
suspended at the window
she raises a hand gone back to girlish
and taps on the glass

        it's going to rain
        come inside now