How dare you
come to me now in this place
and in this time?

When I fell sick yet again,
I dropped that cracked and dried bucket
into the stone-lined dimness.

What right have you,
to put bone finger on my chest of flesh,
crowing of times that neither of us controlled?

Hauling hand-over-hand on the manila,
fighting back the recoil in my stomach
as I pulled the sodden carcass up,
cloudy-eyed and reeking of unmentionable?

Isn't it a moral offense to ignore
that I banished you from my presence
so many minds ago.

I draped the sticky wetness with linen
and interred you in the soft earth
at the foot of our rowan.

How is it you come to me now, shroud torn
and cast off, mocking and throwing
aspersions of neglect?

07/10/2003

Posted on 07/10/2003
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