Switching Stages

By | 1 August 2021

I thank you for this scene
Of your mother in a lounge room,

Your father in a garden and your brother
Who refuses to share his mind

But I should explain, at least, that your
Mother, from your story, has not flopped

Into a chair, in a room in your house
But in mine; and your father, see,

I have him here, looking out
Across a lawn, in our backyard.

Well, he does not notice your brother,
Your father, but we have this link,

Your brother and I, for he has
Known me, all of his life.

Now I ask, if my story is taking place
In your home — if you have marbled

My mother, in rooms which I have
Never seen before;

And so, is my father, in your patio
Sending out his cigarette-smoke-signals

And my brother, if you have him
Do you have that link, for he has known you

all of
your life.

I ask, if in these reborn scenes,

If disbelief
is what we share?

I have you next
to your mother,

In a haze, a wool of grief.

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