I died a blur in half moon glasses her eyes reflected the blitz. I never told the nurse till nine, holding her in television blue it was all she remembered. A nurse turned her bed fresh linen for fresh dead and the sky of Marigolds were plucked from a china vase headfirst into polythene. Salaried pats from a light hand, carbon dioxide aplologies, the night nurse offered a glacier mint the chaplain offered the Lord I took none, just the vase and her velour dressing gown with her scent of April