Aubade 4

A meal of soup and bread and beer

interrupted by persistent melancholia.

Henry in the frame of the doorway,

standing majestically

with his five o’clock shadow

and his crumpled overcoat.

Henry House, a fortnight dead,

neither here nor elsewhere.

I am trying to imagine

a world without me.

Courage is no good.

There will be a patch of land.

Heavenly Father,

we gather in your name.

Through trials and tribulations,

I will trouble you no longer

if you grant me this final transgression

with impunity.