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
unfamiliar
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
Croque-Melpomene 