The whiskey is speaking in tongues again
warming my stomach while life goes on
the Beagle snores
and my heart is sick and tired because
you have gone.
The ‘heart of darkness’ we called it. A continent that
confused and hurt you. Empathy made things harder
there, so you tried to cut it off. And it made everything worse.
So we’d say, ‘At least its not fucking Gaza’. For perspective.
And all those ‘dolly-boys’ you fancied are saying such loving
things about you. Your roaring tide, Jude,
that passion flows about us still.
This grief is a punch to the throat, I’m trying that hard not
to cry. I can’t even read with my boy because I want you.
Not Beast Quest V, which, I’m sure is very good but its not
you, is it? Although, you‘d guffaw and exclaim otherwise.
Your words are here. Your last message ‘I feel so much better’.
Then you died. That would have made you laugh.
A slightly noir flavour.
There is a star outside the window,
It better bloody be you.
Photo: ©Julie Anderson All Rights Reserved