Sunday Sundries

10/08/2023 Emotions deferred catching up

The dead come marching 1 by 1 — hurrah hooray

I didn’t mean it then
Con/Jur/d, 10/08/2023

We can still feel the wracking sobs
the drip, drip-dropping
of snot, of a rivulet 
of ocean intruding

Through the slanted afternoon light
playing through the dust, stars
suspended, everywhere
across the swirl

The rumple
of an unmade bed
we’re repeatedly humming
“Blackbird on the edge of night”

Is there anything sadder?
Maybe Molly Malone
slinging her mussels
“Alive, alive O”

Certainly, not whatever misunderstanding
the now-dead woman and we had
about chores, homework, the
bright-bright future, and how

Our visions deviated

Speaking of our Mother’s death
similarly, but with hiccups, a cigarette
and falling snow creating the endless
depths, galaxies blinking in and out
of existence under the parking lot light

And falling down, down
the gravity well, without bottom

How we wished for another senseless
argument, to ground us in the sticky
moist body, now the sadness

Passes through us
one plane, cutting through 
the many, the vast
broken places an
overflowing

hollow, at the heart of
this all.

Sometimes, sad is the way through

Don’t know who these people are

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 10/8/2023