This poem recently was selected by Helen Ivory for appearance in the poetry webzine ‘Ink, Sweat and Tears‘, it also appeared the the Suffolk Poetry Society’s magazine ‘Twelve Rivers’.
PLEASE CLICK ON THE ARROW BUTTON ABOVE TO HEAR THIS POEM
You can never prepare for this task.
It demands no passion in the wrecking,
just obliterating all signals of existence
throughout your dead parents house.
Discovering now what you never knew,
finding parts of what you came to be.
Eventually appearing in your first school report
folded neatly under your first baby shoes.
There are always secrets, some small,
six hoarded packs of sugar, several tins of spam
a forgotten habit, triggered by War memories
only recently remembered and re-lived.
Some findings can confuse or bite,
a carefully hidden photo of an unknown,
a small suitcase with letters of exchanged love
an intensity that shocks, and must be burnt.
If you are lucky there can be humour
a desk drawer full of jumbled keys
brass and steel, but only one labelled
‘This was the back door key— before the lock was changed’
How will you be unmasked when the clearers come?
Have you already left the footnote of your life?
