and your masks
infecting our lives
with exuberance
eyebrows rising with delight
to your hairless hairline
eyes erupting laughter
before your smile had a chance
to catch up
colourful clothing,
now recognised as
camouflage
what did you need
that hope couldn’t hold
how could death
seem the better option
It’s not thicker
So he made up a game, just for fun, no harm
but she wouldn’t play
His wants interpreted as her requests. His
imaginings, her supposed desires
Negative responses didn’t rebuff him
With her reputation who they gonna believe?
He persisted. When she ensnared him
by telling, he turned creative
She hadn’t counted on his storytelling skills,
had underestimated family ties
Phone calls unanswered, visits that stopped,
lives suddenly too busy
Supported by water she watched her blood
slipping away and realised, it’s not thicker
This isn’t your life
Whenever the phone rang she spoke
to dial tones. Silence filled every
room she entered, eye contact
not held
but males can hold secrets
Once she caught on she:
hurried through her fold, hide, and wipe
two-minute housework regime, mixed
a batch of scents dancing trays in and
out of her oven warm kitchen, tweezered
her face, flossed her teeth, and practised
her smile while thinking
maybe secrets are too hard to hold
but we are supreme multitaskers
By 3.30 she was organised, prepared for
the surprise of her life. Sitting in front
of the box at 8.30, in her clean house,
she watched someone else’s life
Removing plastic flowers
Someone is leaving flowers, plastic
flowers stuffed behind the
shrub we planted
I wish they’d find comfort by
another headstone
I am her mother. They
are upsetting me
There is enough death around here
without lifeless flowers
on my daughter’s grave
