with divine ovation

As a resident of Brinsworth,
she enjoyed the acreage and courtesies
of the artistes’ benevolent fund;
a sixty-four-fold companionship; reciting
nightly, verbatim, alongside coupons
from occupants and the jaunted
pastiche of their loyal visitants.

Colin, a fan first and nurse after,
makes an impromptu stop
ensuing her missed appointment
with Earl Grey and buttered
crumpets - there lies Eloise,
decubitus and stone cold dead.

A more courtly passing
you couldn’t have ask for, not
tethered by wires nor sprawled
across iron, like pets on vets’ tables,
but serene, elegant, at ease.

Colin shuts the door,
lifts the rejected analgesia
– morphine, a syringe-pump –
and self-administers the full 10 mls;
on closing her eyes, mouths
Bravo Eloise – now taking his seat
for the encore.


michael pedersen (Edinburgh, Scotland, 1984)