17 Sep RAINING UPWARDS
I have shrunk with age and grief
I am not sure I have a soul left to steal
He has his mother’s nose
a family resemblance in outlineOur weather-proof coats
sort of match
hooded against the torrentDeepest blue obscures into black
on the inside
the lack of detail gives the impression
my head exists in space
like a hologram
or a dark snow globeThe mountain behind looks unreal
a photo-shop composite
complete with derelict shelterOnly his hand on my shoulder
instills solidarity
and cohesionThe hailstorm has all but subsided
leaving us a little bruised
and buffetedThere will be better days
and worse
for certainIt’s in the nature of ice
when the stone grows too heavy
it cannot be sustained in mid airI look to you
for confirmation
I am still alive