a Poem by Miki Byrne
They are Cellotaphs.
Those bright offerings left by the roadside.
Tended in all weathers. Alongside lanes and motorways.
They lie in small heartrending shrines.
With candles, photographs, other memorial items
befitting age and gender.
They sit, blasted by dust, Grimed by emissions,
glazed by rain. Embodying grief in heartfelt, sentimental,
genuine, mawkish expression—and in relatives homes,
they dust a photo, re-decorate a room. As hearts close doors.
Shrink back into the kaleidoscope of everyday life.
As the cars drive by and by and by.