flying with brothers and sisters
screams of joy
screaming with brothers and sisters
pained by absence
collapsed in holes of grief
uncontrollable brothers and sisters
scoured by loss
wandering like orphaned kittens
absence of brothers and sisters
May. Rain so intense it hurts
Two tall men stood
on the corner outside
the mini-mart by the station.
A ham and cheese sandwich
with a note shared
stories of losing fathers
in youth. Two lives
navigated by guesswork.
bent double by grief
sadness enough to birth rivers
path shadowed by tears
timing was never more important
than opportunity when hungry
we ate out, or would grab something
maybe just an amuse-bouche
at the bus shelter, a first course perhaps
irrespective of weather
because hungry is no respecter of climate
we always ate together
we rarely went without without
in sun, the rain, the snow
until naturally our routines began to drift
into more regular meal routines
before economy and fate peeled us apart
I returned one midnight
to oranges, not as a ravenous teenager
body craving any food or fruit every hour
these midnight oranges were rarer
at first a self-indulgent treat
until our segmentation complete
meant for awhile midnight oranges
were the only food
that I had to eat
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Twenty Two prompt: metonymy – midnight oranges. Good luck looking that up.
The early evening cloud forms a shape reminiscent of the Horsehead Nebula.
The national news today is confirmation of the murder of a young woman unknown to me. My heart aches for her loss, her family and friends.
Another day of tears. A venerated old man died along with one thousand, four hundred and forty-eight other UK victims of the pandemic. Tomorrow Will Be Good Day is the title of his book.
With that hope in my heart I withdraw from this one.