SWEET

The day she went
out of our lives

I offered her a sweet.

'Thanks love, I'll eat it
later on the bus.'

She snaps it shut in her little red purse.

I still feel my hand
letting go of her hand

see for the last time
her never-again-seen face.

Only the little red purse
returns

out of its mouth
Death laughs

in blood besprinkled glass
some small change
the never eaten sweet.

For years it lives
behind the wind-up clock

in my mother's bedroom

scaring me each time
I have to pass

and it sees me and laughs.

My little brother
not even born then when...

jumps up