DEAD CHILDREN SPEAKING
We lie like the dead beside each other and hear the voices
of whoever talks to us. We hear what you say
inwardly, like you can hear train noises in your sleep. We
remember your voice from the time you read stories
on the edge of the bed and we felt secure
under the sheets. We did not answer. There was once
a time and now it is past. There are places and now
we have left them. But everything remembers us.
Between the world and us there is something that remains,
like a secret pact. It remains like the scent of an embrace
does for a short while. We see your standing there if close by,
like you can still glimpse colours with your eyes shut once more.
We lie like the dead beside each other breathing deeply.
Breathing profoundly with you breathing along too. We
recognise you, like you recognise a body
bordering your own when you are asleep.