A grey afternoon and when it
continues to rain, a clueless pattern
leaves pools on our balcony, tears
on the skylight.
By now we knew who we are and as
drakes parade near the breaking dike,
dogs storm through my nan’s porcelain,
our run turns dark.
I ignore you to bits and look outside
the mist, the house gets cloudy and
even though no obscurity should ever
master, I withdraw.
Steadily unsteady. On time, clear drops
infuse and while you cut my landline
I blow out the clouds. The signals we gave,
turn dun.
A year of loss has started. A lifetime of love
has ended. And all the water in the world
will not dim the lights in the lake.
This is how I remember losing,
forever.
Kate Copeland started absorbing libraries ever since a little lass. Her fondness for words led her to teaching and translating some sweet languages; her love for art, water and writing has led her happily to poetry (and to publications, hurrah!). Kate was born in Rotterdam some 51 ages ago and is a housesitter in Spain, the UK and USA.
