Tuesday, 7 June 2016

Pencils and pens

A case

When you died
I cried so much
And so hard
That I wore
A groove in myself.

It was a hollow pipe,
The line inside,
Like the one
In a pencil,
That has lost its lead.

No wonder 
So few words came
For all that time;
Though good things happened,
And the rest.

Now I work more
Like a pen again.
Blue-black marks
Come scratching
From an inky vein.


Photo was taken May 2016 (six years after my Mum died). This new poem makes me think of this (much more cheerful) song. Am I the only one who sings the refrain at the end as "vegetables, I got my baaaaaaby"?


The Bug said...

Losing a mom is shattering, really. I'm so glad you're writing again!

Rachel Fox said...

Yes, and my Mum was really Mum and Dad in one so I underestimated the effect her going would have on me! Still, she liked literature so this is what she gets...