1. Deposition. The process of changing from a gas to
a solid without passing through an intermediate
liquid phase. Don’t go up into the garden
just call the cops. A woman types my words
never looks up. I make contact
with his mother in the front row, she nods
the fringe of her red hair shifts –
all those lines.
2. Deposition. The laying down of matter
by natural process. I am talking from the tongue
and groove ceiling above myself, my hands dry
leaves skittering from the words I say, it’s like his brain
had fused. What does that mean? After his meeting
with the crisis team he came home
pored through cupboards asked, honey –
how do I make a cup of tea?
3. Deposition. The act of deposing as from high office.
I can’t feel my legs. You neglected
to take a statement from the person who lived
as his wife. A policewoman who thought
she’d save me the trauma will take a whole
extra year to earn her stripes. I’m thanked
for bravery and returned
to my seat.
4. Deposition. The taking down of Christ’s body from the cross.
I boil the jug, run my finger over the envelope’s lip
In the Matter And
In the Matter Of
stamped like letterhead coroners court decision no. 100/03.
My hands are leaves again, landing on the kitchen
table, the verdict, his cup.