On the day I was born
The trees gave over silvered leaves
To the gale, turned their five
Fingered silvers to the sky
Grey and cumulus - no reply,
No comment. The British
Rain, a deluge, they rush
Arrive too late. A howl
Announces my arrival,
My fair Madonna mother
Regards me, saucer eyed
And tearful. Whose is
This pink, jammy child?
Small comfort for son lost.
The other's life is unwound.
Twin and kindred he falls
Sleeps in her arms, his new
eyes record the moment
this one glimpse of life
Then he leaves us,
Rises through the antiseptic
Air like light.