It’s only the 3rd of November and here’s my third stanza. Maybe I can keep this up, or maybe all hell will break loose when the 3rd of November hits the USA, and I’ll never write another verse.
November Verse 3: Joseph Prompted by the episode of ABC Radio's Conversations in which Annabel Bower talks to Sarah Kanowski about the experience of stillbirth. I don't know when I knew my mother had a son who died at birth, that I had one more older brother one who never walked the earth. I don't know when she told my sister Joseph was his name. A whispered revelation of old grief kept locked away from time, the thief? I know that when at seven, unknowing, I chose Joseph as my saint I saw no clue, however faint, that that old wound had started glowing, or maybe gave some ghostly joy by channelling the other boy.
