Tagged: loss

i don’t have a good

i don’t have a good
sense of time. everything’s packed
in and loose in the

same spell – like grandpa’s pipe when he
was here with us, now that he’s not
.
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** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: packed

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the world grows

the world grows
smaller
after this,
sweeping one too
many summers
under an old moon
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: sweeping

assimilating

assimilating
and not assimilating play
tug of war in the

morning, at meal times, just before
bed, looking for a clean win
.
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** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: assimilating

perhaps when we add

perhaps when we add
up all of our privileges,
it makes sense that we

can spend an afternoon, aching
with an indefinable pain
.
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my six aunts and

my six aunts and
uncle gather around
grandma’s hospital
bed, allowing
the performance of
procedure to overtake the
art of living.
Their hands
are collectively
tied in the pursuit
of individual
blamelessness.

grandma looks
on, one against
six, a tube down
her throat, mindful
of cumulative losses.

as in every
situation, time
flexes its
muscles, taunting us
to hold on or let go
while duty,
devotion, and rivalry
measure us for both
.
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perhaps we are merely

perhaps we are merely
one hundred thousand
chickens away from
combating poverty
and injustice
and instability
and racism
and disease
and hunger
and hate
and loss
and mortality –
the chicken
or the egg
.
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the year of firsts will

the year of firsts will
pull no punches – a birthday
here, a holiday

there. we will discover micro-
tears to help us adapt next year
.
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