A DREAM OF MISFORTUNE

 

I remember your father as

a friendly man who ate his meals

in the living room

with the huge cream fridge

 

but what was he doing

in my dreams a lifetime later

in the back of your car?

 

Shall we drop him here,

he said, or just keep driving?

It seems banal to say -

you drove me into the night.

 

I woke and you were very close

at least a lifetime ago,

ironing our mixed linen so carefully

 

the fridge full of melon and pig-meat,

those solid wooden shelves

stacked with all the books once read

before misfortune entered.

 

Before the world

had brought you me.

 

 

 

From my current collection: Those Ghosts.