Leaving

Breakfast is over. John Humphries is whispering in the background A sawing noise comes from the garden Mum has looked through her Get Well Cards again. Now she’s planning her day. “What time are you leaving?” The voice is blurred Eye contact imprecise “ About 12.30” She nods like she’s understood a foreign language Everything is recorded In her “Book Of Remembrance”: Lunch! ( S leaving at 12.30 ) Look for holiday diary Geraniums Pay John Outside I foot the ladder While my stepfather performs tree surgery on the plum. I look up at him An old man in overalls swaying against a blue sky Crashing the gnarled dead wood down onto the buddleia With a murmured warning. Knows I’ve seen. He paints the fresh wounds with a grey sticky liquid Gentle as a priest As I drag branches to the bonfire His silence says as much as her talk Her talk as his silence While I the intercessor of their love Say goodbye to both of them