My head is a gutter full of dead leaves,
so much so it can’t drink the rain.
And then another thought it tumbles in and
I think about his breath being pulled into the sea,
and then I choke, myself.
Please believe my tears their salt is true, No
I didn’t know him.
Is that a pre-requisite to grieve a father, a son?
A glee for life and love, lost too soon
I don’t think so?
And then I wonder when my breath will match his, pulled under
And then I say to myself you’re shellfish.
And then I can’t help but laugh at my obtuse absurdity
Because it’s what keeps the horror at bay.
Current Jam: “Sunshine,” Samiam
Current read: Short stories by Flannery O’Connor. Re-reading Neil Gaiman’s Sandman.