Where do you dwell
when once you slept in bed near me?
Where do you dwell
when once your heart beat slow, then stopped?
I see your pictures all around,
forty years of smiling photos.
Where do you dwell?

The earth is turned,
cold beneath the diggers’ shovels.
The earth is turned,
waiting for the lowered coffin,
waiting for the scattered roses
waiting for us to leave. Once more
The earth is turned.

Where do I dwell
gripped and hiding in loneliness?
Where do I dwell
in a house full of memories,
in a house full of “where are you”,
in a house where once you dwelled too,
Where do I dwell?

30 June 2024