—WHEN IT HITS ME THAT SHE’S GONE, THINK I’LL RUN FOR PRESIDENT, GET MY FACE PUT ON A MILLION DOLLAR BILL

 

 

Grief is a Dog in Ashes

 

I should be 

better by now

but all this 

sunshine 

feels like 

molestation

or a snuff film 

The air wears 

odors of dread

and carrion 

her room unrepentant

and the days 

they are no more

than shaman trickery

yet death is such

an easy ticket

I found another toy 

under the couch 

beneath the bed

on a bookshelf 

in the pocket of 

my favorite coat

Just now I picked 

up a coil of her 

butterscotch fur 

light as gossamer 

and like a fool

I’ve spent hour 

upon hour trying 

to weave it 

back into life 

while the sun 

winked at me 

far beyond the 

tallest trees