‘The wings we have are so fragile
they can break from just
one word, or

a glance void
of love.’

Catherine of Siena, ‘Hymns of the Earth’, 1379


send a voice
into the void
into the family mire

send a voice
a silence to the hill
where my mother
and brother were laid

there is no hill
it’s flat suburban ground
devoid of tenor

I just imagined a hill
a hill of remorse
and ripened guilt


send a prayer
to burn the earth
drown the air

send a sign
that all that was not said
is said now

that all that was forgotten
is now remembered
and revered