Stillborn

what did Death incubate

in our younger son that -

 

born dead but still dumb-thumbed

the blank socket blacker

than if eyed his bow-boned

flesh a cold porphyry

 

- the mere chook of a babe

transubstantiated

into the gravity well

of a No we can’t escape

from someone who had been

 

pluperfected boy

I am not the mother

unforgetting her child

the angry two year old

shown dead obscenity

 

yet the sucked thumb

in the soft maw

of your demise

always stings my eyes

 

Blackwells

Oxford 13 July 2010.


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