that which has departed returns
always
as the days define the present
exigencies of life
we choose to defect from sometimes
by the grace of the junk
in the blood
or love
those who have departed and left us
only to return
at night
bearing lighted candles in their fragile fingers
frangible hope
they are
and the candles are squat
and fat
they are tallow the flesh and shallow
sorrow of the body, the fatty meat
death is replete with
and each loved revenant lights his way
back to us as memory and dream
with the wealth of his body
that decays today
and rots our present
void avoiding
his inevitable presence
he presents us
this presentiment
death is life presentified
tonight
(the building we, children, lived in)
departure
David McLean was born in Wales and has lived in Sweden since 1987. This month, he is “poet in residence” at www.poetsletter.com and in August 2008 will be “centre stage poet” in Decanto. You can visit him at his myspace page, www.myspace.com/david_mclean.