Bloom
The vale is yet to lift.
Breasts still tender,
Stomach churning.
Night skies darkening, harbouring dusk.
Body layen out upon the cold, damp earth
Shivering, delivering;
Inhabitable.
Upwards. a canopy.
the spring flowering tree
– a shroud of pink,
Planted out here October past,
For the last one. Now displaying significantly –
new life.
Bitter (not unlike like the taste
that lingers)
Sweet
Cherry,
Blossom
fall as a silk cocoon. An empty womb.
Whilst tears leak endlessly from source.
For the ones that didn’t make it…
Sunday 8th May 2022
Tuesday 5th October 2021
Friday 20th November 2009
This year I will… Sit under the tree.