Life. Love. Loss.

before dawn message
asks permission for my love
i’m awake, ready

my soul sister breaks
before the sun emerges
i’d give her my life

sleep is a present
unpresent in this week’s life
seven days of hell

he flies tomorrow
what if he doesn’t make it
in time for her death?

my girls play the wii
squealing with best friend’s pained joy
parents’ illness wins

and yet they smile
dress up in formal attire
perfect for their game

living life scares me
as i list all my boyfriends
kindergarten up

ask him to recall
if he searched for love like me
or found it at home

he cannot answer
too consumed by coming grief
losing his mother

they will play all night
and go vacation their dreams
never knowing loss

that is what i want
no search for school boyfriends
just love at home. LOVE.

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Memorialize Him

because he came in
and wrote with us a class poem
when we were thirteen

because he’s your dad
forget the swallowed disease
because he made you

for twenty-eight years
your mom gave her life to him
because she loved him

because demons live
even if we wished they’d die
that is why, that’s why

because he deserves
what a father, husband should
he’s not forgotten

because you found him
in your heart, you always knew
that you would find him

the mother of three
raised at home with two parents
he was one of them

because of our youth
the car, recording our voice
and all the journals

he’s in every one
saw through demons to love you
because he loved you

you are my best friend
and he made you, he made you
that is why, that’s why

Turn

he posts the pics–
i see frowns,
utter unhappiness.
i wonder if it’s her wedding day.

is he vying for irony
or truly emotional,
having known her
better than i?

i won’t ask
as we morbidly look over her
eighty-nine-year-old skin,
as we put forth a fake eulogy
from the minister’s mouth,
as we place her in the tomb
beside her
fourteen-years-dead husband.

i will feel the hollowness
of every death,
every lonely old death
seep through the tears
of my mother and aunts,
wondering when the tables will turn,
when it will be their turn
mine
and if the radiant smile
from my wedding pic
will glow across the display,
words lost to all who enter?

Icicles

fog creeps in
beckoning spring
with an absent snowfall
frost on the branches
we wait
i wait
new bicycle shining
under the flash
never yet on pavement
one thousand
rooftops mimic mountains
i cannot see
he tells me by 2050
too many people will live here
to sustain life
and why am i having another child

vanilla caramel cream porter
mixed with dates that match up exactly
eleven
twenty-two
eighty-nine years
my grandmother enters
and leaves this life.

it is monday
only monday
the week is fresh
new like the snow
that will creep in on cats’ paws
as we sleep
and i wonder
if my girls
who met her once
will brave the cold
the cold, the cold
and bury the seed
that brought them into this world
the seed from last century
the person who they will never know
whose words ring
like icicles on snow
we wait for all night.