He punches at a name in stone

as if the warmth of knuckle and fist

could penetrate the cold,

a brother’s arm plunge deep

beyond the gilt

to find its home

curled up in sleep

upon an ocean bed

connect with flesh and bone.

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And I would breathe life

into those lips that once kissed,

colour to the face that smiled,

bathe those sightless eyes with tears,

hydrate the ravaged corners of your mind

And if the drip of all my anguish left you still,

empty shell of all you were, no more

I would care for you in death

just as I cared for you before,

gently thread your hair with tender...

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