the moment he turned
and walked away
our world became peckinpah
i can no longer discern
whose blood
my hands are weeping over
Tag: grief
there’s a reading chair
i won’t allow to die
propped up with
an old Royal Typewriter case
where i drift off
dreaming unafraid
of slow-moving tornadoes
& your whispering face
weighing scientifically
which is more destructive
.
you’re haunting me
as promised
but not so much i feel put upon
which i know
you would hate
(artwork by Stephen Mackey)
more painful
than losing the baby
was watching you cry
and
me remembering
the November
your sweet excuse
for everything was,
“Hey, I’ve got a pregnant wife at home…”
Categories
the shape of a man
fathers day
is a black hole
the shape of a man
filled with regret
alcoholism
and horrific choices
Categories
under catalpa trees
no death
represents a single loss
it is a lifetime of little ones
i didn’t just lose my father
i lost his voice
his cologne
him beaming as i accepted my diploma
the father daughter dance at my wedding
him teaching my sons to fish
family reunions under catalpa trees
but i remember the way he laughed
it was left behind in his grandsons eyes
and in
their gleeful bellies
his joy rising from the deep
it is simply
my favorite mercy
Categories
blades of grass
i long for the way
your stubble beard felt on my little girl skin
my fingers tracing stars on your sandpaper
how safe it was
to curl up on your chest
tucked beneath your chin
as we swayed gently
in your old leather rocker
.
dozing and certain god was in heaven
.
there are days now
daddy
when i’ve come to believe
jesus called in sick for the second coming
and my fingers running through
blades of grass on your grave
would do
grief is a sloppy drunk
slurred stumble leaning
into unresolved dark corners
of our lives
the moment you think
you’ve placed him down for the night
into a reasonable bed
here he comes again
breathing his sickly sweet
bourbon breath
how will i ever forget
where our statues stood
before the corrosive
passage of time
water and salt
form glacial streams
down weary faces
marking the ones who love us
this is what we began with
this is what we leave behind
for a time
i was an undertaker
who toiled into the night
mitigating death
keeping the unpleasant details
out of the loved one’s sight
in the years since
people still come to me
in times of grief
to help prepare them for what is to come
to be a guide when someone has died
but i am at a loss
as to what
the proper form of condolence is
when a rock god has gone to the sky
so here’s what i’m going to do
light a candle
get drunk
piss myself
and cry
listen to his songs
deep into the night
then wake up tomorrow morning
pick up my punk pen and guitar
and
fucking write
write
write