Wednesday, October 28, 2015

6.93 lbs

The cremated remains of an approximately 110 pound woman weighs 6.93 pounds and costs $53.40 to ship from Missouri to Texas.


There’s no poetry in that.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

thursday at the latest

there are things I want to shout
In a low deep voice strongly
the good, the bad, the ugly

returning a call to the chapel
 – the mortuary?
the one-stop-shop that ships
remains of the dead parcel post –
I spoke in a little voice lightly
(yet sure) and irreconcilable
to the years I’ve got behind me

Sister arrives tomorrow
thursday at the latest


Thursday, October 22, 2015

I Hear the Drums Echoing Tonight

In my rear view mirror a woman is preoccupied with her visor mirror, checking…her hair? Her eyes? To the left, a man is staring in his own rear view, patting his waxed on helmet, engrossed. Both with windows rolled up on a sixty-five degree morning that rarely occurs here. I consciously touch my own hair briefly, finger-combing a tuft at the back caused by driving five miles over a forty-mile speed limit with the window down.

Bad songs on the radio; thankfully, a full playlist in my head.

Monday, October 12, 2015

shipping human remains

It was spring that year
wet met dry lungs on a deep inhale
lush, deep green, the land of souls
brother in a baby blue box;
I had thought not to visit the place again
not to bury another, not soon
but the days, the years got behind me
and this land has bits of my heart:
grandfather, grandmother, brother and
soon sister will sit atop, amongst

family long fraught with distance

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

mother did it need to be so high

the tone of her voice attempts a tremble
smoothing to a familiar
condescension
betraying

the worry of her words

she has my number now
and won't stop calling

Tuesday, October 06, 2015

and then we'll take it higher

the breeze was cool, windows down
I sat in the back seat of my sister’s two-door
that would be mine one day
after she left, after she ran

Eddie Grant’s Electric Avenue jacked up high
street lights and the glare from late night store fronts blinding

Sister smiling behind the wheel

little fifteen and
I thought the world was mine