Your letter came, Irene
It rose up through the thorning patch
And flowered Robert's grave
I — know you spoke proud
I saw the name of your son
I ache when careful words
come, Irene
Your husband's here, Irene
When wardens cleared his tulips off
You drove a bramble deep
You sing to him still
You — held for twenty-five years
You found the strength to wait
here, Irene
Your colour left, Irene
I crawled beneath the airing shelf
And wishing to be found
I whispered your name
I hide behind a Daniel
I — crush when gentle lives
leave, Irene
Daniel Hutley (Victoria)
An independent poetry journal. Watch your step.
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