26 February 2022

The worst of the artificial tempest


Hitting that main artery,
only just,
the shot still matters-- 
incomplete and harsh and cold. 

A small morsel 
among the rubble 
with ringing in her ears
knows not where

her dog is,
so she calls out
hoping someone can hear her.


The body dies gradually--
nerves tingling, as if waking up--
but communication is complete.

Arteries jam, then close,
but she can still pull herself 
up and out 
of the shell
as cold gives way to heat, then fire--

a burst of activity and noise
as the ringing stops 
and the sirens begin.


She is the tiniest thing,
the most fragile package,
the most scared little girl
with lungs rattling
and eyes burning.

Her city, her surrogate, 
could no longer
hold her and patiently answer 
her many questions.

So, she waited,
between crying out
a name she knew.

She waited for a friend

16 February 2022

Estate Matters

Grief is love and
love is grief and
this house held you
until you grew
your grief--
and when
you are quiet,
you can hear
the floors
with the womb
at the center,
wide and much too warm.
Love is grief and
it calluses over and
you try to just
let it
but you can't.
This house held you
until you
grew up and out,
arms outstretched
and aching.

Can you ever forgive me?