Ann Drysdale
Scattering his Ashes
You never did take me to Paris, sweetheart,
I brought you here instead. I smuggled you
Through customs, disguised as a roll of film.
Today I carried you in my red handbag
Across the Pont-au-Double to Nôtre Dame.
It was as though they had known we were coming.
Baroque music was flowing from the doors.
I thought of God, squatting somewhere inside
Engaged in Creative Visualisation -
You used to do that, love, do you remember?
With Albinoni, candles and a hassock?
Whatever made me think you'd be at home
In a cathedral? You'd prefer the river -
Poohsticks! From the upstream side of the bridge
I lobbed you out onto the heaving bosom
Of the scurrying Seine. She caught you deftly,
Held you and ran with you under my feet.
I tried to cross, to see you tumble through,
But the road was full of the mad traffic
We would imagine when we played at Paris -
Ah, Monsieur Farquinelle! Où est la plume
De vôtre tante sacrée. Non! Merde, alors...
I made it. Just. The tiny white container
Whizzed like a sprinter down the wide brown lane.
I cheered you out of sight - Go, lover, go!
I brought you here instead. I smuggled you
Through customs, disguised as a roll of film.
Today I carried you in my red handbag
Across the Pont-au-Double to Nôtre Dame.
It was as though they had known we were coming.
Baroque music was flowing from the doors.
I thought of God, squatting somewhere inside
Engaged in Creative Visualisation -
You used to do that, love, do you remember?
With Albinoni, candles and a hassock?
Whatever made me think you'd be at home
In a cathedral? You'd prefer the river -
Poohsticks! From the upstream side of the bridge
I lobbed you out onto the heaving bosom
Of the scurrying Seine. She caught you deftly,
Held you and ran with you under my feet.
I tried to cross, to see you tumble through,
But the road was full of the mad traffic
We would imagine when we played at Paris -
Ah, Monsieur Farquinelle! Où est la plume
De vôtre tante sacrée. Non! Merde, alors...
I made it. Just. The tiny white container
Whizzed like a sprinter down the wide brown lane.
I cheered you out of sight - Go, lover, go!
Page(s) 42
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