It is not pretentious to write about death
Death is in everything, it is in this cup
It is as common as a cauliflower.
Is it pretentious to write about a cauliflower?
I miss my mother and my brother
There have been no funerals
But they are sadly gone
Though people with the same names walk about the house and do the washing up, talk about the gardening and the bow and arrow they just made
These new ones are nice, and fun
But I resent them, for not being the mother and brother I knew
For dying so quietly, without telling me
In came sadness through the back door, and flooded
I miss my mother and brother