Although I know her best br & it’s me she trusts br br The manager insists it’s he br who’ll tell her br br her Dad br is dead. br br He eager to show off br his prowess br br in the newly acquired br Sign language. br br His hands br shape the sound br br she cannot hear br br searching the empty air br for the meaning br br hidden there br Death torn out of the sky. br br She goes berserk br not because he’s conveyed the news br br but because br of his inept fingers br br the bang bang mime of dead br morphs mistakenly into the sign br for our four legged friend. br br “My Dad is a dog? ” br her fingers tear the air apart in fury. br br The ugly signs br dropping to the ground br br in a big silent klunk. br br I tell her quickly br what she needs to know br br & now br she wishes back br br the supposed br insult. br br His death still hanging there br as if sculpted there. br br A rainstorm breaks br as if trying to wash it away. br br I take her br in my arms br br and she cries br his death br br into me. br br br All these years later br her tears br br still nailing me br to her agony.