February Suicide

( for Graham)

A car parked on a green verge
stockinged feet
across greasy fields
hemmed in by hawthorn
                       willow
                       darkness
make no claims
behind
                       the long road twice a week
                       deadlines
                       no resources
                       the six foot fence built with Dad
                       is clear
a moth deafens, lands
pills scatter
dry lungs
face down
a shallow pool