No Suspicious Circumstances
Your sudden sobs punched corridors through crowds.
I’d follow, whisper What’s wrong?
Another mysterious ‘down’,
Lifted by little apart from sprees
In Marks and Sparks and Debenhams,
My Visa card always to hand.
Your need for me involved much more than that
You’d claim, clinging to me in bed;
I felt like driftwood from some wreck.
November again: ten years
Since my belief in your ‘condition’ walked out.
And come June it will be three years
Since you were found on your stairs,
A cold, white knot they easily untied,
Finding pills, traces in your blood,
A history of this sort of stuff.
I was married by then, had two kids.
I watch them play on the park’s climbing frame;
Last week’s bonfires have left dark stains.
They look like fingerprints.
Page(s) 24
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