365 Poems/62 Echo (Rough First Draft)


You are full of the sea,

and every twelve hours

you echo through

rock pools and cliff faces.


You went there when

it was past midnight

and the sky was indigo.


You opened the packet

of penguin biscuits

and ate one before leaving.


I found a single clean spoon

and cup on the draining board,

a small drip of milk on the side

that you must have missed

with the dishcloth.


Today, our child likes

the textures of fruit.

Your anguish about him

grew fast like yeast,

and most of the time,

it was like battling

with the lid on.


You were constantly

engulfed with struggles.

But love, your company,

it was addictive.


And to see you every morning

was to stumble across

an adventure.


If I’d had my way,

you wouldn’t have escaped,

though I know you were

always trying to die.

It would have been cruel

to keep you tethered.

That’s why I closed my eyes

when I heard the front door

click closed.


I would have followed you

on your journey, but lacked the guts.

I can’t imagine you stalled

when you met the edge of the world.

You would have quietly vaulted

the fence, your eyes still open.


Nowadays, I touch the earth with both hands

but I still need to ask if it is okay to laugh.

Some light has returned,

and I can see the ground at my feet.


Sometimes I start to fall apart

because I want to hold you.

Memories push me down

and it feels like I am under

the same water as you

but can’t find your smile,

and will never be able to.


Thank you for the revelation

in my dream. it was perfectly timed

and wonderfully light hearted.

But I didn’t want to wake up,

because I like having you here in our bed.


I can’t help but wonder

what your bones look like.

They will be almost perfect now,

the North Sea cradling  them in its arms.