I held your hand and
vinegar flowed from my eyes:
I watched your eyes dry

with death, with death, with death - you
mother, your eyeballs drying - the doctor
closing the silence, in the morning

mourning, ten years ago
I held your hand

sitting on the bus
before dawn, the traipse and tread
of cold commuters

sometimes I love you
more than I love myself but
pride and the sea change

in the breathing space
during dark winter mornings
I seek news of you

seeking the habits
to make my life full of rich
colours in autumn

tumble jumble mind,
cocoon me in sleep until
tomorrow morning

songs of yesterday,
dragons and ants, may the egg
crack and rainbows sing