John Sweet writes

stood laughing in the rain

 

awkward turn into your soft warmth,

space there between your husband

and child, dead vines caught in

splintered trellis, grey light, grey sky

and the bleeding won’t stop

the buildings cast no shadows

words are lost from my hands to

my mouth, from my mouth

to your ears

objects are broken, are left behind

and forgotten in the

dusty corners of locked garages

the suicide sings

and no one listens

no one knows his name

seems strange to let him die

this alone, but it

doesn’t mean you have to cry

 St. Augustine's Church -- LS Lowry