Even the youngest brother became an old man, his spine concave, ill-fitting gray trousers cinched with a worn brown belt above his hepatitis-distended belly, gray stubble on his poorly-shaved cheeks and neck, his crowded and yellow teeth host to the remains of breakfast.
Archive for the ‘Death/Loss/Grief’ Category
Unveiled
Posted in Death/Loss/Grief, Fathers, Love, Poetry, Relationships, Seasons on July 12, 2015 | Leave a Comment »
I come to life when color begins to leave the leaves when the stain of amber and gold and burnt sienna seeps into the once verdant green and school-bus yellow ushering in the rich and glorious palette of decay and death.
La Petite Mort
Posted in Death/Loss/Grief, Fathers, Mortality, Sexuality, Spirituality on July 4, 2015 | 1 Comment »
Succumbing to the smoothest of fingers, I die. A little death, a divine death, releasing just enough of me into the plain where souls meet and dance, leaving just enough of me to remember that in order to live again everything must die.
You didn’t see me
Posted in Death/Loss/Grief, Isolation/Belonging, Mortality, Relationships on May 23, 2015 | 1 Comment »
I was a few rows behind, off to the right. You couldn’t see me. From this angle, your face was unfamiliar.
Sunny Day Poetry
Posted in Death/Loss/Grief, Poetry, Relationships on April 20, 2015 | 1 Comment »
I The sun streams through the window baking my skin slowly creating its first heat since you touched me for the last time.