On National Poetry Day – Loss

I have saved last year’s snow for you,
stored it in the freezer next to my food
and other artefacts of past life,
before

scientific brutalities,
the shedding of emotion,
your loss,
my loneliness,
a sudden fear

behind the closed doors and limp curtains
where no-one can see.

I hold my breath
as I put my hand into the freezer
to touch your snow,
the white meant for you
but harvested too late,
broken flakes,
cold dust.

An empty space in our bed.
My bed.

It’s too warm
now to bring the snow
to your grave.