Inhale, Exhale
I wonder how much
Time
Will
Pass
Before
Someone else
Becomes the “you”
In these little pieces
Of a heart that doesn’t
Believe in knowing what
It believes in
I’ve been putting it
Off you know
Writing it out for the
World to see
Giving up the idea
That I can make a
Clean break like you
Make no scene show no
Discontent no confusion
Not say damn, what?
It’s hard though
To find the balance
Between blotting
A wound and applying
Steady pressure
I only knew because
I knew you so well
I wanted it to be different
But we were both still
Stuck in the same kind
Of lost we’d always found
There was nothing
No sharp turn sign just
A cliff to drive off
And like always…
You didn’t bother
To identify the body
It’s alright this is
Kind of more my style
Funerals never really
Make people feel better
Take my word for it
It was always my
Job to accompany the
Older {than me} women
On my mother’s side to
Various wakes, views,
Memorials, overstated
Final farewells
And the tears fell
And the food was bad
And wrinkled, oily, pink
Flowery smelling hands
Clutched desperately to
My bony arms as we made
The same rounds every time
Condolences and vague
Introductions being sure not
To give anyone the idea
That I was or would ever
Be anything like my
Mother at that age
Reputaion, reputaion,
Reputation
And finally we’d
Get in line to file
Past the not so brightly
Shining star of the evening
Tissues soggy and prayers
Nobody ever really meant
Waiting dutifully
Behind pursed lips
Usually it was some
Aunt three or four
Generations back
And I didn’t have to
Put much effort into
What they always said
Was “being so strong, Amanda”
Little did they know
It was a relief for me
Even then to find solidarity
Among people
Like
Me
I’ve always appreciated
The stoic weight of the
Dead
See, for me, darlin
My whole life has been
A coloring book journey
From one destination to
The next spreading my ashes
On the lines I saw most fit
I’ve always had a
Beautiful affair
With death
