Past Imperfect

My fragile body
meets your fragile heart
on the pavement.

Five years on
and you're transfigured like countless others
but it's still a surprise
to see lolloping beauty
long hair hooked behind ears
the gift of a sunrise smile so easily given.

This'll be shite, you once said in Music.
Never read a book
yet you clapped at the end of Skellig
I don't really like angels
but by God you needed one
posting prayers in the box
out of desperation, not belief -
please help me find my dad.

It's difficult to begin
when those who made you
are too ephemeral to be constant
their sheltered scars in your open heart
a secondary cancer.
Will you read my zombie script? you ask
It's taken a while, my mam's bad again.