Dead in a Doorway

The weight of the world smothers you

Like a wet wool blanket

On tired bones.

And you lie there as still as death.

Your eyes; dusted in grime

Follow my reflection along the ground

As my footsteps silence the sound

Of a town laid on its side before you.

A red umbrella flicks to the side

To hide you from a pigtailed child,

While a balding builder wipes pie grease

From his mouth.

I step into your space and listen.

And like a shell pressed upon my ear

All I can hear is the sea and my heart

Beating. Beating because

I’m afraid of you.

I’m afraid if I don’t shake you

Who will wake you?

But I won’t shake you

For fear of hearing you rattle

Like a bag of bones.

I find your cup, drop a coin and say

‘Sorry man.’ Just like the last time

And I wonder,

When the first freeze frosts the leaves

Will you see sparkles

When I see dust.

©EilidhGClark

This poem is dedicated to the man who died in the doorway of the old BHS in Stirling. R.I.P. Never forgotten.