Dirge

[heslopian]

For my stepmother

"Life is like a movie: if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so far, it probably isn't gonna get great right at the end and make it all worthwhile. None should blame you for walking out early." - Doug Stanhope

She drank a glass of heady wine,
then left behind the red brick shrine
to her failed motherhood
(or so she probably believed),
walked down the beach, and there she stood,
until such time as she was ready
to take the plunge, stop going steady.

The wine and wait are my fancy,
though we know she strode into the sea
after an eve of drink and drugs.
Perhaps she did a "one two three!"
before she took the final walk,
like a soldier vaulting his mud trench
on the officer's count down.
Nobody saw the woman drown.

I remember one time, long ago,
she thought that I might want to know
her love for me was very strong,
and if this seemed just slightly wrong,
as false as my aunt's "Tudor" house,
neither one of us did grouse.

Always the frightened little girl,
fearing her father's quick fingers,
and her grandad's sly camera,
we never saw below her frown,
and not one person saw her drown.