Saturday, 23 October 2010


Once upon a time there was a funeral director

who had words spoken about him behind his back.

“He’s 73” “Never married” “Like a robot”

were some of them.

“Just once it would be good to see him show something...

Anything” was another.

But he faced his duties with a stony gaze –

a dry cinder block.

Only at night did he erupt –

tears for his never-wife and never-children,

asking himself why his fear to love

had led him to mourn them anyway.