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When the petals died and the stem drooped,
I slept
Sleeping beauty sleep

I awoke to gold
Light too bright
You offered me a dim corner

When you drooped and died,
Gold was gilded with light
There is no sleeping beauty sleep now

Aunt Ty died years ago. I did not witness her death but I witnessed her dying. Aunt Jackie and Aunt Celia, in that order, were the next closest kin who watched Ty suffer. Now they are all dead. I’m the only one who remembers and there’s something devastating about that. At Aunt Ty’s funeral, everyone was grieving properly, crying quietly, nodding yes to the preacher who spoke well of her even though he didn’t know her. And at the end, there were terrible choked sobs that broke out. They were my sobs, bitter and miserable. Then there was a collective intake of breath and they all joined in, sobbing as they rightfully should have, assuring me I was not alone.

the grief of loss
digs in deep
wedges between the joints
arthritis for the psyche
aching on good days
screaming “fuck you” on bad
hollowing out
the hollowed out part of you
who knew
there’d be so many

Haiku Poems: On What I Won’t Experience with the New Him


fingers through your hair

the feel of just-mown lawn grass

sparks fly with my touch


so you want to go back

Japan is lovely I hear

no more me to see

SOB with me

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