Grief poems

Marble Cat




Lucid as the dome over her iris,
seldom fooled,
her paws are fluid as dream sequences.
She drifts into the room,
brushes the door and slides outside
to fissure tree bark
or hook into the feathers of a slow bird.

Back in, she whispers hello,
without divining
human approval.
This lithe creature,
reclining against my thigh
lets my fingers weave around her
resting hocks, or
my thumb burrow into her foot pad.

She rises and is compelled out again.
Her bullet head pierces a well placed bush
to gather information.
Then, collecting her sleek pounce,
she springs in twitching zeal
up a strategic tree limb to scope.

She considers without gathered hurt;
clean heart as open as dawn,
thumping big,
all the hours
life circled in her.
Such a short life,
such a visitation of joy.




Life In Two Cartons


Dutifully,
the suits and shirts were given away
soon thereafter,
while still in the throes of shock;
as were the CDs and skis.
His "to save" basket was emptied
of magazines and news articles,
impotent now in the wider context of loss.
All but one of the hats(a knit cap)
were eliminated,
and the swell gag trinkets
from simpler decades appeared
silly and cheap now.
So were the smooth toys
and racy adornments lined up to stymie
encroaching middle age.
They lost luster and were foisted
on a handy also grieving friend.

Then his chinos went a few weeks later.
A heaving breath, more swollen eyes
and they were gone.
Harder still the shoes,
chanting his name in each rounded
give and stretch of leather.
But they too were finally thrown to charity.
Except those there...
his simple tie oxfords,
those go in the special carton,
with that favorite berry striped sweater,
and with his best watch,
a couple key investment files,
a baseball glove, a high school yearbook,
a strange set of beads, a small redwood box,
an address book (to send thank you cards),
and a photo album of his pre-married life.

The bronze monkey had to stay too of course.
How many times had it gazed at her
when she’d fought with him?


His favorite sun glasses
and a glass lion from Italy were saved,
plus an electrifying speech
taped during his promotional dinner.
Those went in, saved.


It all came down to two cartons.
Two boxes of intention and passion,
childishness and faith,
pursuit, competition,
and unmitigated joy.
She could visit them whenever she wanted.
There was always room enough for that.