Bloodless

Content warning: This poem contains descriptions of suicide

What Happened on Mother’s Day

Coroner’s Court. Surprise heatwave
& fans blowing hurt
into the faces of the flushed

squeezed in for an inquest
unable to locate
a suicide note.

I sat at the back,
your family turning,
puzzled by

who this interloper was.
Your sisters, as beautiful
as you’d told me they were,

your mother
in traditional Sikh clothing,
clutching a white chrysanthemum,

wailing every time
your name took flight.
The Coroner

spoke with witnesses
but together
were unable to find why. I wondered

if you’d tried phoning
that day the rope got the better of you.
Buzzed my intercom

while I was jogging in the park?
Your father
catches me

as we shuffle out & I answer
I’m just a friend.
From the gym.

Your mother
now sobbing in the street.
No, he didn’t do drugs. No

he wasn’t queer
& you’re naked on my bed
saying you can always be yourself

when you’re in my arms.
Still got a copy
of your death certificate.

My last piece of you
like an IOU
I can’t call in.

Simon French has had two poetry collections published – Joyriding Down Utopia Avenue (Coverstory Books 2021) and The Deadwing Generation (Coverstory Books 2022). His poetry has appeared in many magazines and been placed in competitions. He lives in Derby, England and works full-time to help people secure social housing.