God’s gut channels the grief of the world
We weep ourselves away
God’s gut channels the grief of the world
We weep ourselves away
Grief and drugs
sit at the table.
I’ve never had a lover
as pretty as you.
On passing
(the) untroubled younger siblings
playing hopscotch – not only
untroubled, but joyous –
and remembering (being older)
one who had died, one who
their older sister
and brother knew,
and recalling, too,
the once and still
vacant look in their mother’s eyes.
Slender stalk
and greeny leaf,
a morning brief
in a weary yard