Mount Cotton

Somewhere buried below this tended, manicured grass lies the last of you

and somewhere on these grounds are your parents and best friend

and somewhere beyond this glass window I’m looking through

is your plaque but I won’t focus too close in case I see it

“mother, sister, daughter, wife”

in this room another life farewelled

I stand in the back left corner

and somewhere from the past it’s all now here

< 3

Soon he’ll go inside your heart

repair its rapid beat while I wait for you to wake

and when he goes inside your heart

mine will beat for us both

and we'll hold our breath together

til I see you when you surface

Breathe

This room is the smallest one yet

with only four chairs

for the women who have been told to wait

sometimes I wonder if it’s the waiting that does the worst damage

waiting too long to seek help

waiting to find out the results

the door opens and a tiny lady enters with her husband

and approaches the reception desk

with the all too familiar large envelope of assorted scans in her hands

I recognise everything about her

the flat chest

the grey, buzz cut hair

and I think, dear god, will that be me standing there

she’s clearly come from bad news

it fills the small room

and she says to the receptionist

in a voice shaken but attempting to be bright

“well, this one will be a challenge”

and I don’t want to hear a word she has to say

I have lived this nightmare for too long in real life

and whilst asleep

she takes the seat

next to me

and I can tell right away she wants to chat

and I don’t want to hear a word she has to say

her husband, well versed in the endless waiting

has already opened his paperback

and I recognise everything about him

the husband, in sickness and in health

and I can tell he’s supportive but on auto-pilot

“I looked at it like it was a job I had to do” my dad would say

he tells her to read all the information she has

so she can have her questions ready for the doctor

she is taking deep breaths

“just read your notes” he says

she starts to sob quietly

“I'm allowed to breathe” she replies

driving to find out the final results

my phone alerts me to a message

it’s my sister

and it reads ...

Burdened

Birds remain unburdened

by earthly concerns

whilst under the weight

of binoculars raised

we stand our ground

and grasp for a glimpse

of a freedom

we only catch a fleeting glance of

feet stuck firm

In The Water

I said to a lady at work

who is

not quite a friend

but  more than an acquaintance

that I don’t know why we can’t all just take drugs everyday

in moderation and in managed doses, of course

and she was telling me how when she was sick

and her marriage broke up

her doctor said that he thought anti-depressants should be in the water

I read an article once that said

when they tested the waste water of various large cities

around the world

there were significant amounts of cocaine and pharmaceuticals present

and another article, if I recall, talked about the amount of anti-anxiety medication in the ocean

released from sewerage treatment plants

and the effect it had on the fish

Storm Season

When I was young

my mum would be the one

to close my bedroom window when the storms started

during the night

the rain would wake us

and it would take us a moment to realise

that the sound was not applause

but heavy sheets of water

unfurled from above

sent crashing down

the dark was all encompassing

to newly-opened eyes

and rather than sit up in bed

and glide the glass across myself

to stop the rain from streaming in

I would wait for her

and anticipate when she may appear at the door

through the dark

coming in

to check on me

and shield me from the outside