It was Kate's

Three years late,

To the incipient

For children,

You're not all here,

Stephen was to make efforts to re-enter this moment,

The sweet reek of unchanged clothes and methylated spirits

As he walked around the bed,

He was unable to speak,

The loss of their only grandchild had whitened his father's

He had reached the end of a row of bodies and was looking down

Stephen spread his coat