That Moment When ...

That Moment When ...

you’re reading

a book she’d have liked

and thinking,

when I’m done

I must lend … then it comes back:

two days gone, she died.

Another shadorma for dVerse MTB

Afraid of Grief

Afraid of Grief

It’s late at night (I suddenly notice)

but how can I go to bed –

to be alone with my thoughts

of my friend who is dead?

Instead, I’ve been reading

other people’s poetry;

I’ve been answering emails

and playing on facebook.

Earlier, I watched that show

we both enjoyed – stopped short

a moment, as this night she wouldn’t

be watching with me (in our different homes).

I watched it anyway, and even laughed.

I raised a glass of red.

“Watching it for you, Nan,” I said. 

But this time, I couldn't text her.

Then I went back to crying. Then

I started reading other people’s 

poetry, and answering emails and.…

It’s late. I can’t go to bed. 

RIP Nan Doyle, 26 August 1941 – 14 March 2018