Because my father will not stand again
beneath these swags of Himalayan Musk
nor stare for hours to see which stems are safe
beneath these swags of Himalayan Musk
nor stare for hours to see which stems are safe
and which need tying back, I have it in my mind
to let the roses pull our house down slowly
for a hundred years. Then I’ll come back
to let the roses pull our house down slowly
for a hundred years. Then I’ll come back
to find its wreck of thorns and brick, my father
lying on the bed in which he died
and blinking in the petal-scented light.
lying on the bed in which he died
and blinking in the petal-scented light.
The Remedies. Katherine Towers. Picador, 2016.
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