Poems

Succour

I always took you as succour
 
Don’t ask why
 
just help
 
 
Like the stain of wine on the napkin
 
I scattered
 
But I am always dark red
 
thick, sour, wet
 
Like marbles thrown on the stone pavement
 
I scattered
 
colourful, childish, bright
 
 
Like old family photographs ending up in second-hand bookshops
 
I scattered
 
noble, old and a bit tearful
 
 
What you call heart cannot be tidied up like a bag/purse