Everything You Dreamed (Poetry)

(For Eric)

You have changed the morning with your death —
abrupt, your stillness in the world where breath
has gone from you — deserted — quietly left
true silence hanging wordless and bereft.

You — who used the writer’s secret art
to conjure stories — take yourself apart —
become the written name, the sudden start
of history — your dying date a mark

both ending and beginning — what’s between
is spirit above paper — words can mean
anything and everything you dreamed —
shared within the novel’s shifting scheme.

Your heart is there — your intellect — your wit
serious and funny flavours it —
subtle strands within the floating mix
humanity the bite — the lasting fix.

The morning will go on — the world will roll
unsteadier, towards its unknown goal
a small weight moved — unsettled the vast whole
but ink stays warm although the flesh lies cold.