Ill

I did not know you well.
You were almost beautiful-
long face, dark eyes - and truly kind.
Cancer would take you. In the iced North East
hot water bottles flourished.
You said: "No."

I never saw your face turn grey.
I press the burning rubber to my skin.

Alison Brackenbury

If you've any comments on this poem, Alison Brackenbury would be pleased to hear from you.