you're really not coming back

So this is how it's going to be
you're really not coming back
I feel that now

I know you would do anything necessary and required to return

if you could
but not for yourself
it was never death that scared you
it was leaving us behind

you're really not coming back

I feel that now
the weight of that knowledge
is a new presence
that makes me miss you more than ever
it's been too long and it'll only get longer

I feel that now

did I think this would get easier?

it seems to sometimes

most times

and then I just really want to see you

but you're really not coming back 

and the weight of that knowledge
presses in like panic 

I feel that now

I remember us cleaning the screens with soapy water from a bucket

I had my own little brush, the bristles were coloured rainbow bright

I remember the chairs moved away from the table

into a straight row down the hall 

so you could wash the floor

and I would imagine they were the seats on a bus

and take turns trying each one out

my own driver and passengers

I remember helping you to hang out the washing

making sure the peg colours I handed to you in pairs matched 

just you and me

day after day

I miss that now

The blind birdwatcher

The blind birdwatcher sits still
listening intently to the avian chorus
recalling vividly in his mind's eye
the colours and shapes that brightened his sky

he identifies them by sound
one by one
with an insight
honed from decades of observation
of their flight and feathers

but now their songs
fill completely his unfocused eyes
he sees them with a clarity
that those too busy to bother can't even imagine

The Last Star Left

Our future has never been brighter

there are some that say we are living in a golden age

we have turned night into day

our globe glows like a luminescent phone screen

the light we emit can be seen from space

but the evening sky is as black as ink

there isn't a star to pierce and prick

through its dark swathe of infinite absence

except for one

the last star left

people venture from all four corners of this sphere

to watch it twinkle from so far

how we wonder what you are

and the elders speak of a sky sprinkled with dazzling diamonds

and the children take their photos with this shining last sentinel

as the earth turns and burns up its life

faster than light

Ladies Day

It looks like some sort of strange version of a concentration camp waiting room
we sit here in our matching drab khaki-coloured kimonos
with the opening at the front
the television's audio cuts in and out
and the image is shattered pixelation from a disrupted digital reception
but we stare at it anyway
or at our phones
careful to avoid acknowledging each other

As we wait I see she's crying
silently
just enough to require she dab the end of her nose with a tissue
she's texting someone
something, no doubt, no one should ever have to write
or read

she has the most perfect painted-pink toenails
beautiful in tan sandals
such an image of gorgeous femininity
while she sits in this clinic that detects malignancies
and I feel such overwhelming pride in the strength of my gender

my name is called and I lay down and open the robe
I think "God be with me" and she starts to probe

Seabed

It could sweep me right out

if I care to let it

or if I'm careless

it draws me in as it draws me out

it could be a battle between us 

but we settle on a gentle truce

a mostly playful pull and push

continous scoops of translucent sea

curl and rise and wash over me

it lifts and holds my body up from the floor

as if it had arms under my legs and back

and for a moment I lay slack
like I'm floating on a bed 

completely weightless

as light as the sun