Poetry by HLR

Mundane Things That Immediately Make Me Think of a Specific Dead Person


washing my hair over the edge of the bath • orange squash • doing the crossword • unscrewing / emptying / refilling a hot water bottle • stripping the bed & putting on fresh covers • rope • inspecting my scalp for grey hairs • snow • poaching eggs • denim shirts • the price of bread • bluebells • badly parked cars • the shortest day of the year • aching knees • Sultans of Swing • exclaiming “Christ!” • using my Nectar card • leaving the dishes to soak overnight • Magaluf • the longest day of the year • aching knees • improvised bookmarks • peeling potatoes • Batman • samurai swords • muttering “Christ” under my breath • the BBC lunchtime news • paper shredders

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Your Name in Flames 

I blow you out / extinguished flame / you always smell / the same
as a candle that / has just / been snuffed / as that tiny trail of most / delicious smoke / that dances from the blackened wick / the one that I / can never catch as it disappears too quick. I am the spent / match, used and then discarded / I crumble
at your touch and your patience / with me / vanishes / as it so often does.
You are the charred remains with which / I paint / a smile onto my skin / for my sins / for yours: we share a love we both abhor / and practice makes these wanton sparks
so easy to ignore. But when I am gone you will taste my pretty ashes on your
tired tongue / and curse yourself for failing to start fires when you had the chance /
and so the smoke / will never dance / again.