Northwords Now Issue 36

The FREE literary magazine of the North

Gone

by Susan Elsley

Catch her before she’s gone
Tell her that it doesn’t matter
That the plate cracked
Scattering melting moments,  
With a crusty bag of sugar
Standing in for the porcelain daintiness
Of past sharing

Call her and take a skelf of time
To laugh about the dog running puppy-wild
And she got in a fank and you had to
Hold her, her breathing slowing to
A gentle exhale,
Respite against
The chemical clouding

Now it’s past, lift your head
And put it soft, weep-down
On the cornflower rug which braced her
As the zephr wind tore her from
Warm sodded earth,
Leaving you salt lipped
With the tang of absence
Now, a shred of evermore.