Standing by
for
my father, 2nd July 1924-12th July 2013
There was a
time for tears,
When
Death stood by us, and we dared not weep.
David
Raikes
’Chuting through darkness the drop mourns itself
Morphine thickens the glassy eye farther into
Its own refractive density in this world which
Is not the case the dream-chatter of the dead
Meaningless encased in his own deafening dome
Poetry does nothing here the earpiece vibrates
Breathe shallow like aircrew watching gulls
Wheeling above long lines laid out as overhead wires
Inhaling hollow crackling rattling nothing left to say
Nobody to address mouthpiece dry and formal
The soft ‘Oh!’ coughs from the last breath a message
Elegy lost in action on the outskirts of an event
This poem forms part of the Oystercatcher Press pamphlet The Drop. Buy it here, but see also here and here and here.
