We wrestle mortality, each day closer, mourning
parents, bereaving friends.
Celebrating ashes, bones grinded down, considered
sentimental.
Thinking to conversations, fretting last words, lost
too many.
Life is fragile, precious, distant, & up close. More
music to read, tethered skies, a chill at a precise second.
To imagine a smile, to remember a grimace, upon a caustic
tongue.
Across cities, puffing cigars, a turquoise joy.
We tussle with wants, wishes, trying at immortality:
to make a plate, to open a box, to light sage;
Never shivered, never shook, steady at it—a gladiator.
Life becomes crochet, knitting like granny, putting
pieces to puzzles—if luck strikes, to meet three, to have arts, to know comforts,
laughing with authenticity.
Upon a dahlia, a dandelion, upon a prayer, lost &
located, located & lost, a cryptic cycle.
