Sweet Sue

She took her own life, Sweet Sue, swallowed pills
then sat in her car, the engine turned on.
A comforting soul, I think of her still –
would sympathy have helped her carry on?
Who can judge? The grief was too much to bear.
She kept her photograph in pride of place
(the picture of Sweet Sue, she was) – fair hair
in plaits, teeth in braces, the fragile face;
knocked down by a car a stone's throw from home.
Did she beckon you to come, call to you
from the hard earth? The last child of your womb
untouchable behind cold glass; you knew
you had to shatter it. Riding at night.
No reflection from the small frame. No lights.

Published in The Poetry Shed (UK), 9 September 2015