Untitled

by Philip Knox

a friend
just told
me
that
her

one-year-old

sister’sboyfriend’scousin

choked.
to.
death.

shortly before his mother
went into
labour
with
(what would have been)

his new baby brother.

before slipping blankly back
into the
dulling lukewarm
wash of the
everyday,
I thought it

only right
(but nothing more)
to write
some words
which will never
warm the heart

of the
impossibly
small
tangled
body
prone
in some
living-room.