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Another Mother's Son
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Small Branches Poetry

 Another Mother’s Son 
           To LJT 1990-2001 

The backordered boots arrived the day
before your funeral, appropriately black.
Find the right outfit and  the invitation
will come it’s said. I imagined a company party,
caroling, looking slimmer in my black pants.
They were loose as I slipped into them
this morning, it felt wrong to be pleased
while you lay in a closed coffin.

I saw your mother just two days ago
as I was picking out garland
and lights for the tree,
a few last presents
while the boys were at school.
She was developing film, photos of you
for the memorial. Today the preacher
said ‘it brings us together’ as we 
breathed the scent of your flowers.

I’ve never felt so alone Lucas,
as when I hugged her at the store.
The radio was playing Silent Night.
A babe is born, the star burning bright,
‘sleep in heavenly peace.’
How can she sleep to wake again
to your eyes that won’t open?
Tell Him we know about birth,
but now we need the stone,
to see it roll away.
Oh Lord, roll it away.

By Amy Unsworth
July 2002