It is very strange
when you realise
that, once and for all
they are gone.

They are no final words,
no goodbyes,
just a blank space:
no chance of filling it.

And the poets continue
attempting to put the word
down, but they miss
the point.

Every sentence
has been blown
straight out of my head.
Everything has evaporated
in just a few words;

That one phone call
'he is gone'

and he is.

And so,
to my father
who is no longer anything,
just a few things i can remember:
Rest
in
peace.