Memories of Nicky
By Wendy Tilby
We didnít know you but we loved you,
Written on the card of a funeral bouquet
Wake up you have a son,
Wake up your son is dying and you need to see him,
Tubes going in, tubes coming out,
How can this stranger be anything to do with me?
How has he got my genes, my blood?
I donít know him Ė I never will
It will be okay Ė we have a Polaroid and you can always have another one!
You can touch him but my hands no longer belong to me
I never dressed him once, not even to bury him,
A stranger did that Ė more a parent than me
Leaving me with so much guilt that I immediately build a brick wall to smother him
Now this injection will put you back to sleep,
You will never have feeling in that leg again and your liver is damaged
But donít worry it will repair itself
Red rabbit shoes, a pudsy bear
Do you want to take this further, the doctor was very young and we were short staffed
You should look at the photo
You will be ill if you donít
And 22 years later nothing has changed
He is still behind the wall and still not mine
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