Alternative Medicine

I possess two Auntie Barbaras
on my maternal side;
each put Valium in their husbands’ flasks:
both subsequently died.

Uncle John a motorway accident,
Uncle Cliff a machine at work.
Not from malice or collusion,
just the usual married hurts

and anxieties of housewives
fobbed off with chemical relief,
whose protests end in tragedy.
Now united in their grief

the Barbaras live up on the hills,
far from where mishaps occur
and they beg that when I visit them
I bring ginseng and St John’s Wort.

My aunties sitting Buddha-style,
contemplative, disengaged;
reflective upon crystals,
each is thoroughly feng shuied.

A herbal remedy aroma,
the mantras hang like prayers;
around a table hot with incense
sit a seancing of chairs.

The gently clicking worry beads
and meditative breath
become climactic purrs of penance
as we approach the room of death.

Ascending Bardologically
through a softening of dark,
a door opens, on the other side
music trickles from a harp.

The edifice to John and Cliff
is made from empty Valium packs
supported by their ashes held
in two incriminating flasks.