An Ending

From a sailor’s knot

Father-learned, bobbing

gently blood red,

purple-veined, ceiling

plaster snow falling

on kitchen floor slate,

beams cracking under

flesh and rope weight,

hung like feast

poultry, jeans torn

inner-thigh length long,

downy legged: like two

badly plucked geese in

China-cheap denim; a

cartoon t-shirt reads:

‘it’s not you… it’s me’,

drizzled on a pudding stomach…

he waits for them to find him in

the room’s skiffled silence,

distant light and lawnmower wails

crackling on the window grease,

a friendly chair lies stickleback

its seat trainer-printed,

readied macaroons waiting

on cooling rack crowded counters –

one final act of sweetness

for those who will find him,

a crumb path pointing towards an ending.

First they will notice coconut,

and then the body dangling sallow,

isolation finally visible –

hanging like fractions of glass

in the frame of a broken window.

(First published in Lunar Poetry, 2015.)

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