She wanted nothing touched,
Wanted the dark room left
Bereft of nothing not even dust,

All left as it was when baby died,
And the outer world caved
Inwards and crucified
Each muscle and bone

Each fibre of brain
That carried the pain
Of loss and tug

No more on **** or dug.
She wanted nothing moved
Or put aside for memory’s draw,
She wanted it all as it was before

The cot in place; the curtains drawn,
The chair to sit; a place to mourn.