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H F R-L Apr 2016
Today there was announced
the inauguration of a scholarship
in the name of my friend
and of my friend’s death

It’s at KCL. It’s for dentistry.

So if you want to know her name,
go and have a google
take a little look
and you’ll probably learn more about her than I
ever knew. It’s a Portuguese-y name
and a German-y surname -
you’ll know it when you see it.
I’m too ashamed to say it.

I – well, I have no idea why she has a German-y surname
I never knew she went to KCL
and had forgotten that she was a dentist
- assuming I knew.
surely I knew?

She was proud of her cakes
and generous in her making of them
for society events.
She was quiet in meetings
I think
or at least
I can’t remember a single contribution she made in them.
She was nice to me when I suggested I might run for president.
I found her kind of – well, nice. really nice. motherly.

and that’s about all I've got.

but I was ******* torn apart when she died
my world, it came away in shreds
nothing made sense
I had no idea how to move
let alone function
in my shredded, dissolving world

that was the tipping point, you see.
it was after that that I really stopped working
that leaving the house started to get too hard
and that I had to really
really concentrate to
keep my
hands mo
ving through th
e washin
g up

now
I work
I leave the house
and I wash up with ease
I wash up with aplomb
with pizazz
with an arrogant little swing of the hips to the music

But I am far too ashamed to go to the memorial to my Portuguese friend’s death.

I mourned her too much
or perhaps not at all.

She was very nice (I think)
and probably a very good dentist.
and I will let her friends grieve in peace
H F R-L Nov 2015
On your feet,
straight back,
eyes forward,
focus outwards.
Definitely a normal participant in this conversation.

Inside, the foetus position –
curled inwards,
legs body fists all balled.
Brows ready to take my face
and shoulders pulling forward to consume my knees,
tugging and pulling
dragging inwards and away
forwards and down, upwards and round,
till I will disappear into a winking red light,
compress into a disappearing dot.

An imploding star inside of me
that is me –

This relentless inward pull of gravity
is making me light headed.
I can’t see. I need all my consciousness to keep me upright,
to resist the inward-pulling force.
There’s not much left for my eyes
or my ears.
His mouth is moving. I am nodding, smiling. My back is straight.

Shoulders back,
eyes front,
hands clasped,
(no need to show them shaking)
they will. not. see.
A poem about anxiety and panic

— The End —