Will
He never once mentioned the pressure of his blood
or his Mam
I found dead on the floor
his Dad’s cancer
or his younger brother
not once, during the best years of my life
he fixed cars
with a pipe slowly smoking
a magician with gauges and valves
he drank small amounts of beer
most nights
talked of governments,
jays, woodpeckers and herbs
and fishing
he once caught a 200lb conger
he threw it back, no big deal
walked his dog over a hundred years old
until she died too
he never once mentioned it, but we noticed
the angle of the briar
the bedraggled churchwarden
the butter in the beans
that one extra potato
the few extra pounds
but not once ever
did he bring up our grumbles
our impoliteness
or our dirty shoes
through fleeting visits
he just smiled, understood us like Buddha
he gave without receipts
or IOUs
would it have mattered
if we’d found the tablets in his drawer
or deciphered the consultant’s scrawl
papered vaguely on the wooden table?
he wasn’t expecting guests, I guess
and then one random Sunday,
memories of mountains
and meadows
and fox cubs
and bullfrogs,
warm summers
and the scent of tobacco
went out
from 'Sawing Fallen Logs For Ladybird Houses' 2011
http://amzn.to/seDv8w
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