river part 2
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these are still rivers
i cannot skate away on
and while prayer has fetched the angels
to cover my wobbly roots in rocky soil
my mind races to reclaim a memory
that should not be able to float away
but does
it is not all the time,
but in some moments, like this one,
all i can see
is a pink hair bow disappearing into the ocean
and all i can do
is stare through the insides of a photo frame
and try to figure out
who is staring back
you’re already dead
i always think you’re dying.
isn’t that the silliest thing?
you have long been dead
and in the ground
but sometimes while i’m washing the dishes
or folding the laundry
or driving to the grocery store
panic grabs me by the throat and squeezes,
hard,
and i worry you might be dying
and then it punches me low in the gut
because i remember
that you’re already dead.
Do you ever suddenly feel gripped by this kind of panic? That you have to save your baby? Does it hit you out of the blue sometimes: she’s dead; this really happened. We see you.