text: February always finds you folding
  Local papers open to the faces
  ”Passed away” to wonder what theyre holding
  In those hands ​were never shown, the places
  Formal photographs refuse to mention
  His tiny feet, that birthmark on her knee
  The tyranny of framing our attention
  With all the eyes their eyes no longer see
  And darkness comes too early, you won’t find
  The many things you owe these latest dead
  A borrowed book, that cheque you didnt sign
  The tools to be bereaved with, be beloved
  Give what you can: to keep, to comfort this
  Plain fear you cant extinguish or dismiss