I wrote two letters to you Z. just in case.

ONE

Dear Z,

Sad news. It was hoped G

would rally under the new

treatment. It was hoped the light

would glimmer in her eyes

once more like two stars. It was hoped

I would not stand by her graveside,

delicately lay her favourite flowers

on the cold grey stone. Her son

says he will never wear his Union

Jack suit again. He says “It’s betrayed

him.” He did not want to be independent

of his mam. She was his certainty.

The rains have started again. We have

a loose tile. H says it is a faulty baffle.

The Polish deli sent flowers

and a get well card. Nicely done.

Yearning still,

Y.

PS Gonna slap that bloke with wheelbarrow coffin silly. Knock the bastard into next week.

TWO

Dearest, dearest Z,

Blessings come few and rare. The new

treatment worked. She’s in remission.

Her son, the terrorist clown says

he has lot of stuff to work through

with her. Life is not going to be easy.

He says he betrayed her trust.

The rains have stopped. Thank Christ.

We can get replace the absent mortar between the bricks

and get the askew guttering

straightened out. Thank God G

is fine, if not G as in Great.

Yay,

Y.

PS Seems wheelbarrow coffin bloke

has gone.