When I was introduced to Death
I was reluctant to shake hands.
The chill in that room made me shudder.
Death had no face, he borrowed yours
and made of it a mask I didn’t recognize.
I sat there all afternoon singing to you
the songs you once sang to me
while Death sat in the opposite chair
clearing his throat and fidgeting.
Oh, I knew as soon as I left
he would take over. His touch
was everywhere. He was in charge
but not yet. He would have to wait
until I had sung Lavenders Blue.
Carole Bromley lives in York where she is the Poetry Society Stanza rep and runs poetry surgeries. She has three collections with Smith/Doorstop, a new pamphlet, Sodium 136, with Calder Valley and a fourth collection, The Peregrine Falcons of York Minster (Valley Press, 2020). carolebromleypoetry.co.uk