Writing Martin Again

(For Martin, my brother)

I write your name
on window panes

I clap out its five syllables
for the five fingers of my hand

and the five senses
lost and abandoned

I see deep white snow
and signposts buried in the drifts

I hear the jet black engine
running under my sternum

I touch the mirrored stillness
You still, me still here

I smell the red raw emptiness
bloodied, boned and free

I taste the green of bitterness
acid etching ulcers in a stomach wall

I trace the ink of your signature
follow each loop and dot of the ‘i’

that ‘i’ Martin
that has been erased forever.

One of a series of poems about the death of my brother on 26th April 2007

Bluebell Wood


1 Comment

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One response to “Writing Martin Again

  1. This series packs a bit punch, M. Searing!


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