Big Hugs

Before I go, who do I give a hug to?

Family, obviously, big soppy hugs all round,

and relatives, including those I’ve never met.

Exes. Lovers and girlfriends, especially the ones

who’d rather I didn’t. Classmates? Most.

Teachers? Some. Friends who have passed away,

and parents long gone? Big, big hugs.

Places. How do I give Liverpool a hug?

High-five a Liver Bird? Edinburgh,

each Fringe a playful tug? Hull Uni.,

a pat on the back? Deià, un abrazo?

Gigs and dressing rooms? Holidays

and hangovers? File them under memories.

Memories? Give them all a hug,

even the bad ones, it wasn’t their fault.

Failures, embarrassments, anxiety and fear,

sickness and pain, you all are forgiven.

Come here. Time for a group hug.

When it’s time to go, who do I give a hug to?

(Or should it be, to whom do I give a hug?)

Language, of course. A big hug for words,

which have been good company throughout.

And who gets the final hug, that fretful,

lingering embrace? Unable to let go,

clinging, clinging until, fighting for breath,

something dark closes in and hugs, hugs, hugs me to death.