Kenn Hook
(who died of Aids)
In tidal seas your passion’s raging swing
Was full of stitch and sting
......of injury and malady..of pang and pain
Storming the heated ire of losing out ... again
Your memories dark stains
The inky blots of that childhood abuse indelible.
A life in turbulent pursuit..gets nowhere
Useful in the clammy air.
Then landing at our feet the roses came
Filling the air
And we picked raspberries
The church bells ringing loud in Thimert Square
Some days the blood would splatter on the ground
The flush of wooly red upon your cheeks.
You did not speak of it...
You lived between the rages of your curse
And better days when we could laugh.
Written ...the grave-side poem
The death-knell ring descending
The Stone Dogs on the pillars of the gate
Are chained ! you said..
You shouted out the words...’Foul August’...
In Despair.
Kristine Byrne Jan. 2013
From A Summer in Thimert France.