Deaths at Easter: 2010

Deaths At Easter: 2010 by Kerry Hammerton

Any sudden movement
blanched her, yet she
wanted to know,
wanted each drop
of blood analysed
to find the exact moment,
the exact moment
when his brain fired
his resolved dimmed,
the moment when
that syringe entered his skin.

Move him into the sun,*
let the warmth loosen
his limbs, let him lie
sprawled in the grass
as if he was eight again,
let the earth bear his weight,
let the earth bear this weight.

The first she knew
was a gruff voice
on the telephone.
At first she couldn’t
hear, after all he had
left for work as usual
that morning. His death
cordoned off by
yellow tape and open
mouthed spectators.

When she closed
the doors, the shutters,
turned off the lights,
wandered around
in a twilight world,
unplugged the phones,
shut the gates,
no-one understood.

After all she hadn’t kissed him,
had turned over to show him
the smooth cold line
of her shoulder,
that morning.

All those deaths,
those crosses,
those park benches
lining the road: in
memory of, dedicated
to, in loving memory of,
and, and, and…..all those
names and sometimes
the dates, the years:
birth and death.
Birth and death.


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