I carry you
before me
carefully cradled
in interlaced fingers
like a
pregnant mum would.
My shadow
mimics the illusion.
My silhouette
making me look
like I’m 7
months gone.
Pregnant with you
I carry you our Mum
transformed into
this box.
Your life now
nothing but these ashes
a number
(2731) .
Our memories
trying to keep you
alive.
I place you
on my lap
buckle up
(car pulling away from crematorium)
as your car-driving-song
comes on
Steve Windwood’s
voice emerges from the speakers
like an arc
of a diver
and you’re BACK
IN THE HIGH LIFE
AGAIN
cradled between our
tears & laughter.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/back-in-the-high-life-again-in-memory-of-my-mother-ita/
