The river’s plump today,
sister I never had, always leaving –
why tot up a life’s balance of feelings
valid only on the day of issue?
If I just lay on the couch all day
wrapped in my mum’s old Afghan
and watched the rain slip off the shining leaves,
soaking the earth, bound for the open ocean,
I’d miss you terribly.
I do anyway. You well up
through the fractured boilerplate – remember the time
Scamp got porcupined, and we gave him half a Valium
before we pulled the quills with a pair of pliers
and he got staggery and fell down the stairs?
– Oh, no, you weren’t there.
There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.
From Spirit Engine