Thursdays

Thursdays No more Thursday meetings No more fleeting catch-ups No more sticking plasters Stuck on our fractured family This Thursday, every Thursday now You will not twist your hair till it bleeds Or tear the yellow craters of your sores As I play mother in our restaurant Putting food on your plate In your belly Our snatched, pretend normality Always, pizza and pasta Tea with 6 twists of sugar Your crumpled sachets strewn across the table A blizzard of white Why didn't I notice how thin you'd grown My handsome bundle of bones? Your pupils, two black moons Eyes, underlined with blue. Unstoppable, fate roared down like a torrent Of fire and ice, like a thunderbolt As if you were the branch and I the tree When Thor the thunder god Hacked you off from my heart