Today, under a wide, white Thanet sky, we went to Margate cemetery
I wanted to tell my Dad that John Peach had died.
He never wanted his sister to marry John
And yet they stayed together for 60 years.
It’s not as though I can send my Dad a text
To: George1925@bonesunderground.com
Subject: your brother-on-law has died.
I wouldn’t do that even if he were alive.
And so I went and cleaned their grave
Told them our news: John, the funeral, the pandemic
they couldn’t understand, And took them flowers,
Glad that my guerrilla plaque to my Mother had not been taken away.
The flatness of Thanet affronted me anew.
We spent our lives going back and forth over the Peak District,
And I wondered what really made him relocate us there.
There was always the story of how he’d liked the area
from when stationed in Deal
But there are so many different stories that I can no longer
believe the simple one I was told. They feel dirty, like lies.
I know that if I asked someone else
It would be a totally different point of view.
But we are all multiple beings, reflecting different facets for the moon, the light
And so all I can do is accept I know a truth, just the one potential one
Among the many
LMCollis 19.9.20
