he mounted stamps
when he could 
nolonger mount stairs
no longer mount wife,

screaming at Man U
screaming at you 
screamed back
and i 
turned up the sound

so today
when you
called to say, as
i knew you would, as
you knew you would, that
he had passed, that 
he was gone, that
he was lost, that
he was
                        Say the word.  Saying it will not make him any moreso.
i found myself wondering 
will become of 
his sheets of two
dimensional children 

will they
lie in pages
lie in boxes
for years
for decades
until she, too
and your wife, of
whom you will have
forces you to 
                      What good is all that to us now if we can’t sell it?

and in looking
you see not
him, not
you, not
her, but

running up Kennedy’s
death trail in the rain
clutching and covering 
laughing and lingering 
so proud, so happy, so
eager and so
                            He’ll love it!  It’s perfect!  He’ll love it!
so very

will you
hold that mounted
sheet in your still
hands, and
remember the 
slip of your thumb
up my thigh, the
flick of your tongue
on my collarbone, the
clench of my sex
around you


will I, too

and both of us
of us

©s rogers 14 march 2008

5 thoughts on “Philately

  1. 1markt says:

    I guess the question that remains is, How Will You alter all this?

  2. katley says:

    Hi, Kitty!

    Enjoyed this. It made me think about what what I’ll be leaving to my kids, will they value or treasure it when I’m gone or will they throw it out as something worthless?

    Also why are people so afraid to talk about death? Although it is a scary topic to talk about. People are afraid of the unknown.

    Thanks for sharing, Katley

  3. catgem says:

    mark, i no longer have the ability to alter any of this at all

    *nuzzzzzzles you, Kately — so wonderful to see you here — and Toonces sends love too!!!

  4. This is amazing. Truth. Reflection. A bittersweet twang at the end of every thought. This is poetry.

  5. CatGem says:

    I’m honoured, abrave… thank you

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