Quiet desperation


Tell yourself it’s just a Summer cold so
there’s no need to make a fuss soon be back
home as you wave the ambulance off and of
course visiting’s restricted, makes sense,
protects all of us that Ward must be really busy,
 no-one’s picking up but plan a brisk service
anyway six mourners’ll be enough, you’ll pick
some nice music that’s bright and uplifting,
hide behind clichés:, God’s will good innings,
at least it was quick cry yourself dry every night,
self-medicate with drink, tell yourself it’ll be okay

And feel your stomach swoop when the telephone rings.






Kevin Patrick McCann
Illustration Nick  Victor


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