And Then

by Simon Kindt

when Ma lost her third in the red year
that scorched and burning year
we couldn't afford the box
or the priest 
so daddy wrapped the small splinter of the body
folded stones into the cloth
and cast it to the river

and how Ma’s body wept for weeks
those hours she stood at the sink
pressing out the milk
swollen with an ache
beyond all metaphor

how she'd wake sudden in the night
at the sound of a child
crying from across the way
and there against the window
silhouetted in the lamplight 
I watched her weeping
stains spreading on her blouse
light washing through the air
hands pressing out the milk
the letting down of grief

Simon Kindt is a writer, musician, teacher and performance artist who lives and works in Meanjin. His work is interested in myth and art-as-ritual.