Memento mori by Coco x. Huang
Memento mori
Transcript:
Lunch at midday
a cosy café along Bobbin Head Road
sitting outside in the autumn wind
sunlight combs through a border collie’s dark back
in frothed milk, a well-formed heart
the coffee is bitter though
raw or white sugar? not sweetener
that stuff will clog up your heart (sweetheart)
a small tear on the sachet, not enough to bleed sugar
…
The clink of a stirring spoon
many scratches on the silverware (on the handles as well)
and now you see chips everywhere:
the faded ink blossom on the bald man’s arm
the cowlick springing from the waitress’s hair
a mother feeds her boys in their double-decker pram
a man (a child) steadies his mother’s wheelchair
cars brush by, sweep dust across the road
don’t we all have someplace to go
…
There was a dead possum by the wooden cross this morning
at the road’s sharp curve and decline (149 Burns Road, Turramurra)
someone had left fresh flowers
Grandma put on her favourite coat
even though the stitched blooms were loosening
like the stent in her friend’s heart
when it collapses, the artery will squeeze shut
no more home visits or long gossipy chats
it’s only a matter of when
…
Try not to think of your triple choc muffin
as fatty cholesteric globs
that will harden into arterial plaque –
savour the dollop of cream (and strawberry sliver)
the distant whirr of coffee beans grinding
away the vanished hour, waiting
for two old friends
to finish braiding each other’s silvery hair
on a windy autumn’s day
…
