9/18/18

i imagine myself to tears
over and again. it’s exhausting.
this grief is a box with walls
i can’t see. maybe it is a tunnel.
how to mourn someone
who will go on living? these poems
are their own little funerals.
activity of the day: cry in a new part
of the house. wash the bed covers.
shower twice and forget to shampoo
both times. look at old pictures
that make it worse. grope around
inside myself for a minute until
i realize it is all air. walk
the dog without an umbrella.
sleep wet in clean sheets.

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