The Crumpled Snow

The orange slim line of the chopper overheadMeans only one thing here – certainty.Certainty that northeast of where I standIs a near departure,Perhaps wedged behind a wheel.I will count the minutesAs I count thunders and strikes.I can do nothing else. For in the next thick hourIn the next thick breath,A mother may weep a son,A […]

Suits

I can smell my own pits,my night sweats,sucked up in my weekunwashed robe. I am disgusted. And yet, there,in the garment bags,lingered in your suits,your suits I brought homefrom your funeralin the sands so long far gone,remains these sameand bitter musks. And there, in the bags,the pastes of rose wallpapers,struggled up but aligned remain. And […]

Tuesday

Fifteen and taken in the first snow. That was Tuesday. That was the bridge and the last commute from the first job – too young for black ice and traffic. There will be a cross come Spring, there is always a cross come Spring. But for now it is hard grounds, black ice and green […]

I Will Not End My Grief

Could there be a requisite span of mourning – some sentence meted out by the dead to be thrown black out into a day without – wistfully walking away? I picked a stone on a path as I thought of you. I picked a stone for my pocket, and there, in my pocket is my […]