Nan

NAN

as I sat and held your hands
watched your sallow skin
shrink into the hollows between the bones
I tried to fix in my mind an imprint of how you were
so that, in time, I when I needed to call one up
it would not be this one
but that soft face, russet cheeks, fuzzy like a peach
each feature settled into a comfortable symmetry
I would picture you in your greenhouse
bent over a tray of seedlings in that brown mac
nimbly selecting the strong from the week
in the annual seed tray cull
so different from this sanitised cell
still, I see them
God's expert fingers
ready to pluck this withered stem
from it's bed
work done
sap bled