by Fillippa Jensen
Polyphony, Volume 3, Issue 1
First published December 2020, Manchester
(Video: Narrated by Fillippa Jensen; Filmed and edited by Aisha Sodawala and the Polyphony Design Committee, 2020)
Now, who is to clean up
all your worn shirts and unread books,
the half full pack of cigarettes,
or the coffee mug still
sitting on the terrace
where you sat this
undoubtedly making plans with the gods,
whispering, so I could not hear.
There is a picture on your desk
taken half a life ago:
the summer I came to visit
this strange country where in June
the sun never leaves the sky,
and you made me stay.
Going through your drawers
I am surprised to find
a pack of digestives you didn’t eat, yet
I know you wouldn’t mind me sharing it
with our Labradors and grandchildren.
In our fine old Volkswagen, the dog sits
ready for the Sunday trip to ‘Droobak’
or ‘Drøbak’ as our grown girls would correct
me and laugh, something you never did.
For the same reason my name is Carla,
but they call me Lala, and so did you.
I knew you the best,
and now I have to bear
your ring as well as mine,
both on my necklace,
our life echoes
with the faint clink of metal and vows.