The Absence of Good

A brief respite from burning August heat The freezer-section of the supermarket I consult my list as my children weave In and out, in and out, around my feet

Out of control, they giggle and squeal High on life, energised by E-numbers I focus on the four things I must find Apples, yoghurt, bread and wine

Then I see you shuffling towards me I suppose I had been expecting you Misery, hopelessness, emptiness, death But not today, amongst such normality

So real, I can reach out and touch you Even though I suspect the flesh of my hand Might pass through your entire body So frighteningly devoid of life you seem

In week-old make-up sliding across An oily, sweating, waxy face Traces of crimson lipstick smudged Across a whisky-scented, food-stained mouth

Dressed for winter in a heatwave In a once-vibrant electric blue tailored coat The sleeve now barely hanging Onto the threadbare shoulder seam

We lock eyes for a few seconds I hold onto my trolley for support As an overwhelming, choking feeling Washes over me; I struggle to stand

I search the bloodshot windows to your soul And find nothing. Beaten Your sole purpose; waiting to die In a cold, lonely, wind-blown place

I close my eyes quickly before you can take me And as I “come to”, I sense once more My kids weaving around my legs Giggling, so full of life, as once you were

I clutch them, unable to stop hot tears I hold my daughter as once you were held And as I breathe her in, I ask myself When, where, how, did they all stop caring?

The absence of good in you, in this world Leaves me shaken; I straighten my back And I focus on the list of four things Apples, yoghurt, bread and wine