Grain. In Sullen Memory.

A photograph in the news
breaks through a cacophony of headlines
putting a name to death again,
as forks shriek to halt
reminding everyone
that they are dead.
The face eerily alone
amongst cuckoos and sulpherous roses -
frozen, smiling in happier times
while fog closes in to blur the saintly sheen.
Another sand memory
forcing teatime to turn sombre
in the midst of beans, sweet tea
and bacon rind.
A body to mourn
under the shovels beak...

@Steven Francis poems 2009