Friday, April 19, 2019

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

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