Decaf
/
it's just a broken keurig —
it brewed so many cursed cups of decaf
while i was waiting for her
and then so many reluctant cups of the strong stuff
while i was retraining my body to breathe.
Springtime on my lips
/
i breathe into the sound of baby birds
calling for their mother
and i am reminded that you never will
but for the first time in many months
i can relax into the smiling sun
and my lips pulse warmly
from the kissing of your grave
They Said: a trauma haiku
/
The recent outbreak of the novel coronavirus has been surreal and rattling, even to the most battle-hardened psyche. There's nothing like an invisible enemy to strip away any remaining shreds of your sense of security and ease. Wresting the words from an already trauma-addled brain to explain this in any coherent format is more than most of us can likely bear at this point in time.
And so, instead, I offer you a haiku:
Never fear, they said.
You and your baby? Low risk.
Definitely low.
It will not burn you
/
you call it grief
you think it’s madness
when i throw matches into the wind
and expect them to catch fire
but i assure you it is not
Read More