I collect the sadness
Drop by drop
In my Keep Cup
Squeezed from shoulders,
Wrung out of orbital notches,
Pinched from nail beds;
Unwincing responses paint tears down mothers’ faces
And burn the corners of my eyes.
My cup fills
With the emptiness of the family meeting:
He won't wake up
Takes a lot of silence to say
Twice in one day, two boys too soon.
It's twelve, my head throbs,
I'll get coffees, I say,
Though my cup is already full of heaviness
As I walk outside.
The sun is too bright for the darkness of the day,
The coffee burns, bitter,
Scalding my tongue
As if it is my fault for breaking hearts
Today.
Two boys are dead.
Tonight one saves a life
Though she nearly bleeds to death
In the saving.
Mummy, what's that on your shirt? Have you got an ouchy?
Asks my son, when I get home
A millennium after I first left.
I hope it's coffee
Not blood
Staining the bandages
Over my unravelling
Heart.
Conflict of interest
The author declares that she has no known competing financial interests or personal relationships that could have appeared to influence the work reported in this paper.