Sonnet-ish on Grief
I lay down beneath my grief today.
Pulled it up to my neck, pulled more.
It covered my head. You’re a disaster
since I’ve lost you. I was the glue that held
you. I was the stitches. You beg for food
and warmth, for my skin you never wanted
when it was yours. Most days, grief lies
at my feet like a dog. No. That’s not it.
Grief lives in my yard like an old cow.
Well-used. Familiar. Requiring basic care
and feeding, but not much else. Close,
but not too close. Admired, but not adored.
I see your car outside,
and close the door.
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