The widow handing out
her husband's last repair jobs,
each already newsprint-wrapped
sits meanwhile in their unlit shop
hands open on her lap.
Bitter grief has nearly smoothed her skin.
Kneeling up in Mediterranean black,
reaching down the numbered parcels
as if returning all their wedding gifts.
I was very pleased when Les said it was okay to put up this poem, which is the last poem in his most recent book - Taller When Prone - published by Black Inc in Melbourne. Les is a wonderful poet, I love his work.