Mourning Poem IINov 20 2020 · 0 comments· News
Auto da Fe
When the car is mended
I’ll go and fetch my Dad.
He’s just a box of ashes now.
He used to drive me pensive places
“Penny for ’em, Son!” he’d say.
I’d slam the door and pull impatient faces,
I’m at the ‘Daddy’s Taxi’ stage myself,
The kids are still too young to drive,
Though time has chained their darling ankles, yet
The sexton’s dug the grave again,
We’ll bury Dad with Mum.
Two boxes, same cold slot of earth:
The motor’s been away awhile,
They’ll fix it at some cost,
My parents languish, past repair
Lost, lost, lost.