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  • Writer's pictureKate Clarke

Danny Kaye

Updated: Nov 14, 2022

It shouldn't have come as a shock,

that this grief so resembles a love affair.

Could there be this deep well of loss,

if love hadn't carved out a space here?

It isn't the quiet, later chapters,

of loyalty, respect and of honour,

it's the first tsunami of romance I'm feeling,

that throws the world off kilter.

You remember? I know you remember.

The unguarded chatter, the sleepless hysteria,

being woken early by a song,

not yet written. The sex obsession.

(That's something those Ted Talks on grief don't mention).

If I'm honest I've enjoyed this strange engulfing,

but now it is passing. A second loss.

I'm still telling you my secrets.

Our cabal of two I cannot surrender.

You would tell me your dreams, first thing,

the ones you remembered.

If a great line had come to you in the night,

you'd recite it, excited,

holding my wrist: '"Katie, get this."

And how often your dreams featured loved ones you'd lost

Ada, Champ, Jesse, then Joseph.

I dreamed of Danny Kaye last night,

all golden curls and shining grin

And knowing how, as a boy, you'd loved him,

I went off to find you, in my dream,

so you didn’t miss him, dancing.

You couldn't be found.

But I knew I'd wake you up with the tale,

come the morning.

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