face cachée | a poem

he landed on his feet

she said to a mother who felt that her son was dead

his feet are shattered

she was still talking

to a mother whose only thought was

the irreparable loss of her child

you can’t see him straight away, he’s full of blood

she said to my sister

I’m just doing my job


handed her his things

you good?


they left

and she was on the floor

the flat where the world fell apart

you good?


you go to her

death in your mouth

his leather bag in your hands

she dissolves into a little girl


the bag overpowers her

it feels bigger than her body

containing objects

of a day unlived, unspent

you good?


she tells my mother to stop the car

to stop driving

she knew first

he had broken her first

a mother knows

a mother knows that unwanted pause

a mother falls into the hole before the sentence starts

and words disintegrate in the fading colours of the world


I’m loosening grief’s hands around my throat

I’ll sing your song

I’ll sing your song


the language of death will never stay the same

you grow old

it grows old with you

or against you


wind, my brother’s fear, didn’t matter anymore

when he was standing on that bridge

I’ll sing your song

I’ll sing your song

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2022 | Instagram: @croque_melpomene

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